There's been a pretty big burning/hot stiff in my neck along with waking up drenched in sweat, nausea, feeling weak in the arms and legs, chills and headaches. No cough or sore throat. I've been experiencing these symptoms for about 4-5 days. Are these just normal flu symptoms that'll just go away on its own?

I have adhd, autism, ocd, anxiety, depression, arfid (fear of choking and vomitting) and bipolar 2 is in question.
Failed meds: mirtazapine, zyprexa, zoloft, abilify, effexor, adderall. Lamotrigine kind if helped the depression, but that's when my anxiety got worse so i went off. Ritalin was okay, but curbed my appetite and made my ocd worse.
Lorazapam helps my panic at extremely low dose of 0.25mg as needed. Zofran helps my nausea.
The meds I tried and that failed it was immediate extreme side effects so they were only taken 1 or 2 days.
Where do I go from here? Any advice is appreciated. For reference I'm underweight so adhd can't be treated right now. I really need to get my ocd and anxiety and depression better, and preferably with meds that don't cause more nausea or lack of appetite. I can't do thc, as it causes my panic to get really bad. I've tried different ratios, smoking vs eating... it's a fail. My eating disorder is top priority, but I'm not sure where to go. I need my appetite increased, and I need my ocd to chill so i can eat.

Chapter 1
Mors
An endless void, silence interlaid with its pitch-darkness, greeted an injured man. No light can be seen, sensations be damned, and consciousness spread thin as though taut in this incomprehensive expanse that laid before him.
Callum fell into the abyss, his mind the only thing left to accompany him. He hasn’t even counted the minutes as his mind is plagued by something else. He never considered himself a man of interest, only scraping by with his odd jobs and part-time salaries, hence why he couldn’t understand his current situation.
Betrayal is something that he is familiar with, whether it be a betrayal of his expectations when a co-worker broke his promise or a betrayal of his emotions when his first love interest cheated on him back in uni. However, this betrayal orchestrated by his best friend whom he’d known for 5 years, and girlfriend for 8 years felt more gut-wrenching than the pain he felt from the stab.
Denial was the first thing that stormed his mind. He couldn’t believe that the two closest people in his life would stab him in the back, literally. There was no build-up, he didn’t suspect a thing, and everything was normal until he found steel in his flesh.
He rejected the notion that his girlfriend, Catherine, would betray him like this, an accomplice to a murder that he can’t grasp the motive of. He has built up some savings, but it isn’t something that would be worth murdering someone for, especially after buying that ring.
He dismissed the thought of Jake being jealous of their relationship as he couldn’t see the guy doing something as stupid as this. He can’t form any rhyme or reason as to why they would do it, and the only possible explanation is that this was all a dream and he was actually still sleeping inside the tent.
But as he waited for himself to wake from this nightmare, only darkness greeted him. He had tried moving his body in this sea of blackness, but the movement only felt like going through molasses with tired arms, which is why he attributed this as being only a dream that he would wake up from, which appeared to be wrong as he waited and waited.
Anxiety crept in as he tried to call out, but no sound escaped his lips. He strained his voice to be heard, yet he can't even hear himself. No light adorned this place, no wind to be heard, and he couldn’t feel anything even though he tried feeling himself.
The pain in his back was forgotten as he tried and tried to move, to scream, to flail senselessly, amounting to nothing as he was greeted by nothing.
Feeling anything in this void is something impossible, and the only thing that he can do is return to his mindscape.
He went back to his oldest memories, back to a time when everything felt oppressive and suffocating. Callum was born into a broken family. His mother and father had gone through a divorce when he was only 6 years old. He could still remember the screaming and yelling of his parents whenever night fell in their sorry state of an apartment.
His father, Eric, having not finished his education after Callum’s birth, has been living as a blue-collar worker in downtown New Jersey. Even during his day-offs, he can’t seem to find rest as he goes to do odd jobs and part-time work to stay afloat. On the other hand, his mother would leave him, a toddler, alone in the apartment.
He remembered her putting CDs in a DVD player so that it could keep his attention on a cartoon that his father introduced him to. If he had anything to describe his mother, she would be irresponsible and narcissistic. She would sometimes bring guys over to their apartment, threatening Callum with divorce if he ever told Eric about it, hence why it took several years until his dad caught on and filed for a divorce.
Eric was determined to take Callum with him, he argues that he could take care of his child better than Callum’s mother. But his mother and her twisted pride can’t let go of Callum, which leads to a legal dispute between the two.
The court hearings went on for several months, with each passing day being a lot more hellish for Callum. He was subjected to further insults by his mother as she knew that leaving bruises on her child would lower her chances of winning over the court to her side. Sometimes, she would go as far as manipulate him, gaslighting him into believing that she was a good mother who would take care of him better than his father. But after seeing that the court favors Eric’s side more, his mother took drastic measures to satisfy her wounded pride.
It was the second to the last day of the court hearing, and it was during this time that his father was working overtime. Callum had just gone home from his elementary school, feeling tired as he hauled his bag over his shoulders up the multiple flights of stairs he had to climb to get to their apartment.
As he neared his home, he steeled himself and opened the door, only to be met with overturned tables and broken ceramics. He walked quietly through the scene, afraid that someone might hear him entering his home. Looking back on it now, Calum can’t help himself but laugh at his stupidity. He could have gone and alerted their neighbors, or gone back downstairs to wait for his father, but being a child, Callum doesn’t know what to do.
As he entered his room, he saw black words spray painted on the walls, the meaning eluding him as he didn’t know what it meant since he was 7 at the time, but remembering it now sent shivers down his spine.
The words “This is what you get!” on a torn wallpaper are ingrained in his mind. Seeing the manic letters sprayed over the walls gave Callum anxiety, taking a few steps back towards the open front door of their apartment. Escape was now on his mind as he grew scared of what was to come, something that was far too late as he heard his mother behind him.
It was there that everything turned into a blur. He remembered snippets of yelling and crying both from himself and his mother. He remembered his mother forcing something down his throat. He remembered his father coming home early that day and restraining his mother, a crazy look in her eyes. He remembered the feeling of nausea and the floor colored with his lunch. And he remembered the sirens, red and blue lights dancing in his vision as he was carried to a stretcher. The last thing he remembered was his father crying, holding his hands tightly when he opened his tired eyes.
For the next few days, he learned from the news that his mother attempted a double suicide. The story goes, after losing the custody battle, the mother planned to take revenge by ending the lives of both her child and herself. They said that he got lucky as the neighbors had contacted Eric when his mother turned their home upside down, relating it to a possible home invasion. If not for him, Callum would have died from nicotine poisoning after his mother forced tobacco down his gullet, a morbid story that he uses as a joke during his time at work.
He remembered being inside that hospital for days on end, his body recovering from the poison his mother left him with, and his father was there almost every day even though he had to work to pay the hospital bills. After what felt like forever was he allowed to be discharged, going back to the same refurbished apartment that they lived in, but after seeing how Callum had recurring nightmares and trauma attached to the place, they decided to move to Pennsylvania. A hard decision that needed to be made as his father would put it.
Everything after the whole incident was better for Callum. His father got a job as a mover, still doing some part-time work here and there, and Callum did his best in school so as not to burden his father with more work. Even though they lived in a rundown shack handed to them by one of the locals, they didn’t mind as they knew that getting to live at all was better than what they had before.
Callum smiled in the abyss as he reminisced about his time with his father. He was a great man, a good role model for anyone who came across him. He is kind-hearted and considerate, a hard worker that makes him popular among his peers. It was them that helped move him and his father out of New Jersey and found them a place to sleep in, teaching Callum that socializing and connecting with like-minded people goes a long way when someone needs it.
For the next few years, Callum lived happily. Though there were some ups and downs, he and his father got through it, which is why the memory of his time in university was depressing.
Eric, after having saved some money, gave Callum the go-ahead to enroll in a university in California. But after attaining an athletic scholarship in football, Callum gave his father a surprise to ease his worries and stress. Callum felt bad every time he saw his father work, hence why he tried his hardest to take some of that workload to give him a break. With the tuition being lowered with the scholarship, Callum could give the rest of the money back to his dad. A gesture that was fully gratified as his father had a hard time letting him go when the time came to move over to the university. But it was during this time that tragedy struck.
It was his fourth year in studying anthropology when he heard the news from one of his father’s friends, Robby. After hearing it, he grew distressed and worried, taking a lot of convincing from Robby to keep Callum from moving back to Pennsylvania.
His father has gone missing. The news had spread amongst his co-workers and friends, and a search team was already being dispatched to find him. Even though Callum tried to keep his focus on studying, he couldn’t help but feel agitated as days went by without news of his father being seen. His mental state plummeted, and he grew withdrawn from reality as days turned to weeks, his father still gone.
He could still remember the times when he locked himself in the school’s library, searching the web to find any news or reports of his father's whereabouts, but as he searched for days on end, only one thing kept popping up from the newsletters. His father, Eric Hurst Foster, went missing in his own home. There were no struggles in the house, the CCTV didn’t see him on any of the roads or stores in the town they lived in, he just seemed to have vanished into thin air.
The news ate away at Callum, and his friends that he’d made during the time gave their support to keep him from spiraling out of control. However, even with their support, Callum’s worries over his dad never went away, hence why he threw himself into work. Going to part-time jobs and studying is the only way to keep his mind from blowing. He did this until he finished university and found a job to stay afloat.
This went on for years until he’s come to accept that his father may never be found. With nothing to ground him in their old home, he decided to explore the world, thinking that one day, he might find a lead to the whereabouts of his dad.
Months turned to years as he worked tirelessly in multiple jobs. From being a mechanic, electrician, cook, waiter, and many more to count, Callum went on a work frenzy. He made a plan to scour the states as a freelancer, living in his BMW pick-up truck that was given to him by one of his friends. He stayed in each state for a few months, meeting new people and making some friends along the way. They sent their well wishes to Callum as they knew that he was still trying to find his missing father.
Years went by as he made his way back to California. He had gone and explored every state, and yet no news of his father came to light. The case had gone cold, and it was up to Callum to find any clues to this mystery. His mind has told him to give up the search, and multiple friends have given him consolation as they knew that his father would never be found, but Callum persevered.
It was during this time that he found himself as a mover, the same job that his father had before he disappeared. He had just come back to California after getting the job, and he was about to go check in for his first day when a sudden downpour of rain covered the skies of the city. It was only coincidental that he was near that coffee shop, and it was coincidental that only two customers were present there. He and his future girlfriend turned accomplice to his murder.
The rest of his memories went by as he continued to float in the abyss. From the time of their first years in a relationship to meeting Jake for the first time in that apartment to when he taught PE and History in a school in Minnesota. Everything went by as Callum went from one memory to another until he felt something.
A chill ran down his spine as an indescribable dread manifested in his mind. He knew not why he felt this way, and he felt himself tearing at the seams as a slit of light showed itself in the void. He was then pulled into the light, senses coming back after he spent his time in the abyss for what felt like days. And with a flash, he is back in the same hunched-over position he was in when he was stabbed in the back.
Callum can’t help but laugh as he finally could see again. Trees surrounded his vision, with wild grass carpeting the ground. But before he could truly see the world, he felt a sharp pain in his back. With his body remembering that he was injured, he felt himself sweat profusely as he bled, painting the flowers under him red. And yet he didn’t panic.
After all that time reminiscing, he finally gave in and let death come to him. He fell on his back, sending another wave of pain coursing through his body, cursing under his breath as he regretted not laying himself down slowly. And as he looked to the sky, he felt himself getting colder and colder.
Callum felt at peace as he stared at the clouds above him. The sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves helped him come to terms that he was truly dying. He’d thought about death a lot. During his time when he was a kid, and when he was depressed after his father went missing. But the peace he felt for only a few moments as emotions came crashing down.
He felt himself tear up as he came to terms with his current situation. He would never have a chance to marry the girl in his life. He would never have a chance to have his own children and see them grow. He would never have a chance to be a father. And he would never have a chance to grow old with the people he loved around him.
As he thought of these things, the floodgates opened. Streams of tears fell down his cheeks as he sobbed in his dying state. He could only put his hands over his eyes to stop it from flowing, an action that felt challenging as his body became fatigued from all the blood loss. The crying only hastened his death as he felt his breath escape him, his lungs labored and filled with blood as the stab had punctured it.
Minutes went by as Callum felt himself grow tired and tired. And as he closed his eyes, Callum’s heart slowed and slowed as his body has a lack of blood to pump. His breathing grew shallower with each second until his body gave way and stopped altogether.
Callum died at the age of 34, stabbed in the back by his best friend with his girlfriend being an accomplice for his murder. He died from blood loss as his body colored the ground red.
Callum waited and waited to feel his consciousness fade as he welcomed death to greet him. And as the second grew…
'…Wait.'
His consciousness never faded away.

Hey, y'all. Tomorrow morning I'm starting my treatment. I was given Metronidazole (e/8hrs), Clarithromycin (e/12hrs), Amoxiciline (e/12hrs), and Omeprazole (e/12hrs). I also bought Probiotics with 5B+ bacteria in them for once a day.
How is this for a meds schedule?:
---AM--- 7:00 Metronidazole + Omeprazole 8:00 Breakfast with Probiotics right before 9:00 Amoxiciline 10:00 Clarithromycin
----PM---- 3:00 Metronidazole 7:00 Omeprazole 9:00 Amoxiciline 10:00 Clarithromycin 11:00 Metronidazole
Also, feel free to express your comments, opinions, concerns, conspiracy theories, thoughts and prayers, etc on my proposed treatment.
*Other things to consider for my individual case: -Exactly 2 weeks ago I got a surgery for an inguinal hernia. I'm off all of those meds already, and my stools have already been ok at this point. -My colon and stools have all been fine throughout the many months (probably under a year) that I've likely had the H. Pylori. All of the problems had only caused gastritis and esophagitis at a relatively mild degree. -I have barely taken antibiotics in my life. Maybe once or twice after being sick, and probably given antibiotics through the IV after my 2 surgeries. Never felt anything bad with them. -My symptoms while having H. Pylori, however, have been bad and of many kinds. Nausea, chills, dizziness, extreme acid reflux, disgust to eat, extreme discomfort, but never stomach aches, never actually vomiting (but always "almost"), and never diarrhea except for a couple of times with very specific meals (probably other bacteria and not Pylori related).

So I have this super fun issue where I am deathly allergic to the penicillin family of meds, as well as sulfa based meds. Just those are a HUGE NO. And as I've become an adult got to add on no medicines ending in -myacin. Not deathly allergic but the allergy signs were building up to where it could have turned bad.
Now, the weird thing is, I can take cephalexin just fine. That throws the pharmacy for a loop for sure.
ANYWAYS, I got a super weird cellulitis infection, out of nowhere, on the end of my middle finger on my left hand last Sunday. Woke up with my finger just hurting big time and by the afternoon I had a huge sore blister show up.
Went to urgent care on Monday, they prescribed me Levofloxacin. I just finished it yesterday, thankfully with no scary side effects, but damn if I am not so freaking achy all over. My Achilles tendons are super tight except when I first get out of bed. My hips are tight and today the palms of my hands decided to start to ache. I am certain this is all connected due to how Levofloxacin can affect your tendons. My question is, how long before this all starts to chill out? Advil and Tylenol together help some, but man I am walking around like an old lady this past week LOL.

hi friends 💐
today towards the latter half of the day i started feeling awful, throat hurts and a really big sinus headache, i actually got sick in the restroom twenty minutes before im scheduled to leave.
i took my temperature right after getting sick and it was 99.7, so no fever, but i am showing symptoms that it’s getting higher (real bad chills, severe nausea)
this month licensing is coming, and a lot of people are suggesting they’ll be at the center tomorrow and i really do not want to miss that in case i do start to run a fever. im anxious about telling my boss what happened today, as i fear she’s going to be irritated that im missing on such an important day.
i only just got home and am gonna take my temperature again in a few minutes and keep monitoring it. any advice in case i do run a fever?

26F. Super healthy before all of this happened- long distance runner, running 6 times per week. Had the flu at the end of Feb (Covid negative at this time), recovered after 1 week or so then went back to normal. A week or so later I got Covid. Covid was mild- no fever, just sniffles and sore throat. No matter what I tried, I just couldn’t get back to normal after Covid. Running would be okay for a week or two, then would feel like garbage. Then 3 weeks after Covid I started getting dizzy and had blurry vision. Had a MRI and CT which were both clear. Even saw ophthalmology and an optometrist, eyes were totally fine. Was told to just keep on resting and I would feel better. Fast forward to 6 weeks post Covid. Went for a run and had significant heart burn, nausea and dizziness. Went to the ER and found out that my troponin was at 841. Within 48 hours troponin went back to normal (high sensitivity test- was at 52 at discharge). Cardiologist said it was viral myocarditis even though I was negative for COVID and a bunch of other common viruses. Chest MRI and X-ray were both clear- neither showed signs of myocarditis. Vision continues to be blurry and I’m quite tired. My legs are also super achy. Last Covid vaccine was in 2022. Went back to emergency today because of new chest pain. Troponin was at 7. Have any docs seen something like this? Does it sound like viral myocarditis?

/uw Part 1 here, part 2 here. Same as before, set roughly 20 years ago. CW: vivid description of post-concussive symptoms, and blood. Fun stuff.
/rw
Oddly enough, this page is more readable than the last; however, all of the names have been scratched out. Not that it matters—you can fill in the blanks.
...
I awoke to the worst headache I'd ever felt, like a hangover on steroids. My mouth was so dry, and the ringing in my ears was deafening. I slowly peeled my eyelids open and winced as a horrible, stinging pain shot through my right eye.
Even through my cloudy vision, I could tell that I was laying on the floor. My head throbbed as I peeled my face away from a cold, dried crimson puddle. Every joint in my body ached and cracked as I braced myself on a nearby... bookshelf?
I didn't know where I was, but before I was able to investigate, I was hit with a wave of crippling nausea. I retched, but nothing came out. I gripped onto the shelf like my life depended on it as the world began to sway and twist.
I stood there, shivering and catching my breath for... a minute? An hour? I couldn't even tell. It didn't matter. Eventually, the darkness in my vision receded, and I put one trembling foot in front of the other.
As I shakily walked forward, each step sent a jolt of pain up my spine. After a few steps, I stumbled. My feet caught on each other, and—oh, hi floor—I crashed into the ground, sending a surge of pain through every cell of my body.
For a moment, death seemed almost welcoming. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to scream, only managing to let out a pained whimper. My eyes stung as I quietly sobbed, a burning reminder of the helplessness of my situation.
I pushed myself off the floor again, being careful to not stand up too fast this time. I was about to grab the shelf to my left when my gaze landed upon a peculiar book. Upon first inspection, it looked normal, but something about it felt strange. It was as if it lacked clarity—not visually, but instead conceptually.
That book... I couldn't ignore it. I needed to take it. I could barely close my hand with enough strength to pick it up, but I managed. And again, I braced myself, slowly trudging forward step-after-agonizing-step.
A bell rang off in the distance, just out of sight. As I looked toward the end of the aisle, a man walked past. I tried to call for help, but my voice was too weak. By the time I figured out a plan to get his attention, he was already long gone.
I found myself face-to-face with a door. I couldn't even remember walking over, but I didn't care. I knew I was there for a reason. I pushed on the door, but it wouldn't budge.
A voice called out from the other side, "...Hello? Who is it?"
I didn't process the question, but I couldn't answer if I tried. The moment I heard the voice, I shoved the door with all my strength. Nothing happened.
He yelled again, "What, do you not know how door handles work?"
Oh. Right. The door handle. I reached down and fumbled with the knob, but it was as if my hands were made of ice. I just couldn't get it to turn.
I heard him sigh. "Here, let me—"
The door swung open, and there he was: a smiling drow man dressed in business casual. That smile didn't last long, though, as it was quickly replaced with a look of sheer dread and confusion.
"Oh my god." He rushed forward to grab my shoulder. "What happened?! Are- Are you okay?!" He was asking questions at a million miles per minute, but his voice quickly began to fade into the background hum.
I was so tired... I... could sleep... forever... That sounded nice...
My stupor was broken by the sound of snapping inches away from my face. "Hey! Focus! I need you to stay awake!"
"What? Oh... Yeah." I breathed a shaky sigh, trying to stay conscious. "Who... are you?" I mumbled.
For a drow, his face went surprisingly pale. "I'm... Eldred. Y- you know me!"
I stared at him. Was this some kind of joke?
He tried to regain his composure. "Can... you tell me what month it is?"
I had no idea. I looked around the room, but struggled to come up with an answer. "...June?"
"It's November, Ithael," he muttered, his gaze meeting mine.
A question pushed itself to the front of my mind. "Who's... Ithael?"
"You!" He cried, pulling me in for a hug. "You're... You're gonna be fine, you're gonna be okay..."
I didn't know what he was getting so worked up over. I didn't understand anything.
"We're... We're going to find help. Come on!" He hoisted his arm under my shoulder and helped me stumble toward the front doors of the building.
"...I'm tired..." I whispered. No more than three steps in, the floor came out from under me, and everything went black before I even hit the ground.
...
Another newspaper clipping is stapled to the page [Mierbrook Post]. A second Glyph of Warding triggers, casting Modify Memory, but... it has no effect. The past cannot be forgotten so easily, no matter how much he tries to run.
"Panic spreads as Eldred Wyndorn, owner of the Wyndorn Library, vanishes without a trace. In an attempt to locate the beloved library owner, local authorities have thoroughly searched his residence, yet no leads have emerged.
In light of this alarming development, the press has reached out to Ithael Ralich, longstanding companion of the vanished entrepreneur. Despite their repeated efforts, their requests have been met with unexpected and chilling silence.
An inves—"

26F. Super healthy before all of this happened- long distance runner, running 6 times per week. Had the flu at the end of Feb (Covid negative at this time), recovered after 1 week or so then went back to normal. A week or so later I got Covid. Covid was mild- no fever, just sniffles and sore throat. No matter what I tried, I just couldn’t get back to normal after Covid. Running would be okay for a week or two, then would feel like garbage. Then 3 weeks after Covid I started getting dizzy and had blurry vision. Had a MRI and CT which were both clear. Even saw ophthalmology and an optometrist, eyes were totally fine. Was told to just keep on resting and I would feel better. Fast forward to 6 weeks post Covid. Went for a run and had significant heart burn, nausea and dizziness. Went to the ER and found out that my troponin was at 841. Within 48 hours troponin went back to normal (high sensitivity test- was at 52 at discharge). Cardiologist said it was viral myocarditis even though I was negative for COVID and a bunch of other common viruses. Chest MRI and X-ray were both clear- neither showed signs of myocarditis. Vision continues to be blurry and I’m quite tired. My legs are also super achy. Last Covid vaccine was in 2022. Went back to emergency today because of new chest pain. Troponin was at 7. Have any docs seen something like this? Does it sound like viral myocarditis?

Hi everyone. I'm on week two of kit 2 and just upped my Naltrexone dose on Thursday. Friday was fine, but I woke up Saturday with the worst cold/flu symptoms:
Chills, fever, bad headaches, exhaustion and a slightly phlegmy cough. Today isn't much better, and I've basically been in bad all weekend. My husband and kids have no symptoms (yet) but there was a cold two of them had last week that I didn't seem to get.
I wrote to Hers, but has anyone else experience this? I took a covid test; I was negative. I did have some mild side effects the first week (gastro), but they were manageable. This isn't in the long run. :(
Oh also, no nausea at all, but very diminished desire to eat. I get hungry here and there, but nothing sounds palatable.
TIA

I’m (20f) currently 36+4 and excited, but exhausted, so I wanted to share what my experience has been like since learning- the good and the bad
I learned at about 6 weeks, on a hunch I decided to take a test and it came back positive. I had only been with my boyfriend for about 2 months, so I was scared to tell him, and I had never even given a thought to having children. But, luck would have it he was supportive.
Then came the morning sickness. Before getting anti nausea meds from my ob, smoking weed seemed to be the only way to eat anything, and my favorite thing to eat was tomatoes. Made me real sad that the smell of sweets made me nauseous :(
After the first ob appointment- I have an amazing one, not invasive and there’s ultrasounds at every appointment so I’ve been able to watch baby girl grow- I moved back in with my momma because I was losing too much weight too fast while living with my boyfriend. She immediately started spoiling both me and my baby, especially on Christmas. Baby girl got a bassinet, swing, playpen and TONS of clothes. Me and my boyfriend decided on a name, after my dad and his grandmother, and her middle name is his great grandmothers name. Even though we no longer live together, him and his family are still extremely supportive and excited. The distance has definitely put stress on our relationship, but we’re learning together how to have discussions instead of arguments and navigate this part.
Around 13 weeks, the nausea subsided and I started feeling like myself again, less tired too. At 16 weeks I SWORE I felt baby move, but thought it was too soon (I did, in fact feel little squirms). By 24, I could SEE her move, but every time I tried to take a video to send to her dad she would stop, camera shy like both of us XD At about 26 weeks, my little sister had strep, and I caught a cold and was out of commission for about 3 days, and took some cold medicine after HEAVILY researching which ones would be safe, but on the second day I noticed she was barely moving, so I made my mom drive me to the hospital to see if everything was okay. At first they couldn’t find the heartbeat, which added to my panic, but when they found it I started to cry because I was relieved and everything became so real. After that, I was definitely more careful.
Things started suckinggggg physically at 32 weeks (literally). I was exhausted, achy, couldn’t sleep till about 1-2 am most nights and I was definitely nesting like crazy. And I started leaking colostrum. I told my mom the next day, and she told me to start pumping, so I have been and currently have over 150 ml saved in the freezer. For the past two weeks, my sleep has been terrible- waking up to roll over and pain every time I do as well as being extremely dehydrated despite drinking water every time I wake up. A good part is seeing and feeling the little dance parties baby girl decides to throw all day. Last week my feet and legs started swelling like crazy- one day I had ankles, the next they disappeared and I haven’t found them since. I also learned that baby girl is currently 7lbs 2oz and gaining about a pound a week, which is honestly terrifying because that’s gonna hurttttttt when I give birth T-T
Anywho, that’s me, what are your stories?

Sorry if this is a bit disjointed and long, there's a TL;DR at the end. I just had my LEEP on Thursday and wanted to share my experience. Hopefully this soothes a fellow over-thinker.
Background: 30 yr old female, 130 lbs, 5'2". No moderate, severe or chronic health conditions.
I was diagnosed with high-risk (HR) HPV with LSIL/abnormal cells in February of this year. Not 16/18, but another HR strain. I got at least one shot of the HPV vaccine before I turned 26 so I was really shocked at this. I had a complete emotional breakdown because of the connection to HPV and cervical cancer, plus I just felt....dirty. I've gone through my sexually active years without getting as much as a yeast infection, and now I had just been hit with an STI, and the one that causes cancer. I went into a pretty deep depression and honestly I'm still in that depression zone but not nearly as much. I did a ton of research and my findings told me that even if it was cancer, it's one of the most curable ones especially given my age, health, etc.
My primary doctor referred me to a gyno's office connected to the hospital I go to, and I scheduled an appointment for March 1st. Gyno (who was actually not an OBGYN but an APRN/midwife?) basically did a slightly more advanced exam/questionnaire then I got another referral to an actual OBGYN for a colposcopy and scheduled it for April 1st. I thought I would have the colpo/biopsy with the APRN during my March appointment but I guess that's just a "yeah your primary is right you need a colpo" step. Idk, very confusing.
April 1st comes, the doctor that was available for that date (I wanted to get this done asap) had some less than favorable reviews on the internet so that made me a little uneasy. Between each appointment I was spending hours researching, redditing, googling, youtubing etc. so I wouldn't go into this completely ignorant and hopefully minimize the chance of any BS being pulled.
My doctor was, to my surprise, very chill, professional and knowledgeable. Took time to answer all my questions, we even had some laughs. Please ladies, find a doctor that makes you feel comfortable if you can. No question is a silly question and no doctor or nurse should make you feel like you're stupid for raising concerns or asking a lot of questions. If you feel something is off or a doc is being an a-hole, that's your sign to GTFO and find another doctor. Pleasant staff make this experience so much better.
The colpo: wasn't that bad. They crack you open like a pistachio with a speculum (like they would use for pap smear) and take a look at your cervix with this scope. A vinegar solution is applied to highlight the abnormal cells. My doc's colpo machine did have a screen that could show me what he was seeing, although it wasn't working and honestly I'm glad. I think seeing what was going on inside of me would make me worry more. So I just had to take my doctor's word for it when he said the area of abnormal cells was small.
I had a punch biopsy done during my colpo and oh man. It hurt. I wasn't instructed to take ibuprofen beforehand. I'm not sure if they didn't think I would need a biopsy or what but holy crap. 2 samples were taken, at 12 o'clock and 6 o'clock on my cervix, and I received a curettage as well. The curettage didn't hurt or was minor in comparison to the biopsy. After the biopsy, a "liquid bandage" was applied, this bandage is called Monsel's solution I believe. It's a mustard yellow paste.
The biopsy caused immediate moderate cramping and pain. The "6 o'clock" one, which was a larger sample, made me flinch and let out a little yelp. 6 o'clock hurt a lot. I will say that my doctor talked about what he was going to do before doing or as he was doing it so it's not like I was taken entirely by surprise. However, you don't realize how sensitive your cervix is until a chunk is taken from it.
After the biopsy, I felt this dull pain, nausea and cramping and apparently had excessive bleeding. Dribbles of blood were present on the procedure chair and floor, some of which had been cleaned up by the nurse/assistant prior to me sitting up so who knows how much was there. Doc confirmed this excessive bleeding in my after visit summary, but it wasn't so much so that it warranted some kind of emergency. I experienced some spotting for about 2 to 3 days after. I expected more blood in my pads but that never happened. I think seeing all this blood, knowing where it came from and why it was there made me even more nauseous.
The nausea and...weakness after the biopsy really had me messed up. I could barely focus as my doctor went into detail about what to possibly expect afterwards, what he saw (he even drew a little picture of my cervix), answered any questions I had. We said our goodbyes, I got dressed and made a mad dash to the waiting area's water cooler. I figured some cool water would calm my nerves and my stomach. I stupidly walked home after the procedure (I live in Chicago, very close to my doc's office). Nothing terrible happened but in hindsight, what if I passed out in the office, in the street? If you can ladies, have someone with you to get you home safely and for support. Or, at the very least, take an uber after.
After getting home I checked my pad, everything was good although I did have some "coffee grounds" in my pad from the Monsel's solution. The doc warned me about this and to expect it for a few days. I crashed on my couch for a little nap before going to a concert later that evening because I don't know how to take a day off.
The next month following my biopsy was largely uneventful, I did have intercourse about 2.5 weeks post-biopsy with no issues or pain, although the thought of infection and the whole process made it hard to enjoy sex (I healed up just fine so this was more unnecessary worrying). I didn't experience any pain, fever, or excessive bleeding, only some mild discomfort/cramping/lethargy (likely due to mentally stressing myself out) on day 2. I did however, experience one moment that freaked me out:
Day 3 post-biopsy: I got home from after work (my job requires me to be on my feet most of the day) and felt something in my vagina. It felt like a freshly inserted, regular sized tampon. I went to the bathroom, washed my hands and reached down to feel something coming out of me. Something was crowning and breaching my labial gates. I reached back down and slowly pulled out whatever object was in me. It felt like a horror movie. I knew I had inserted nothing.
Based on the feeling of said object, I thought my cervix was falling out of my body. I started panicking a bit. Panicking intensified after pulling out this...sac.
It looked alien. It was this membrane sac, about the size of a pitted date when rolled up. Within the sac contained those "coffee grounds." I knew it was the Monsel's solution and likely I had shed the liquid bandage. That logical thought didn't stop me from freaking out and gently wrapping my alien sac Starbucks trash baby in a piece of toilet paper and further sealing this HPV caused abomination into a Ziploc bag. My plan was to run to the ER and show them the freak I had given birth to.
Problem is, I had just lost my is insurance and was in process of getting a new plan, so a costly trip to the ER, waiting for hours for them to likely tell me I'm a panicky idiot wasn't really in the cards. So what does any overly anxious patient do? Turn to Dr. Google of course! I found a couple of reddit posts from women who had experienced the same thing but there wasn't much information on what had just slithered out of me. I found one of those "pay $5 for any kind of advice: legal, medical etc! Chat with an expert today!" sites that seemed legit enough. I got in chat with a doc quickly after some AI pre-chat prompts and he confirmed my suspicions: it was the Monsel's solution that I had expelled from my body. I was told this wasn't unusual and so long as I don't have an excessive bleeding, fever, pain, blah blah, I should be fine.
And I was fine. If you experience this and don't have any accompanying complications, you should be fine too. It is weird when it happens though.
My results came back about 2 weeks later. What was initially thought to be LSIL turned out to be HSIL/CIN-III, and my OBGYN told me I needed a LEEP sooner than later. My appointment was scheduled for next month and I still didn't have insurance. These month long waits between appointments were anxiety ridden depression fests, fueled by junk food and further exacerbated by internet research. The LEEP posts on Reddit had me so concerned, I reached out to my doctor to see if I could be put under general anesthesia for my LEEP, instead of receiving local anesthesia. Women on here described LEEPs as painful and traumatic. Just awful stuff. If you're reading this you've likely read those too. They described leg shaking after the shots, crying, etc. My doctor left me a detailed voice message and responded to my concerns with: "most women tolerate it well but if you're uncomfortable we'll send you to the hospital and put you under monitored sedation/anesthesia." I was still worried but was willing to see how I felt after local anesthesia. I was pleased he was open to working with me and my comfort level.
Fast forward to Wednesday last week:
The night before my LEEP, I got maybe an hour of sleep. I couldn't turn my mind off. My heart started racing an hour before my procedure and I had weird heart palpitations/irregular heart beat. I showered to calm myself down and be clean for my appointment, took 600 mg of ibuprofen as instructed, then headed out. Got a little snack from Starbucks (croissant for before since I was walking to my doc and some madeleines for after to help offset some potential nausea). For my LEEP I wore a big comfy sweater, some "period" leggings (leggings that aren't too tight and I don't care if they get blood on them) and brought a pad with me just in case. They should provide one for you but I'd rather be prepared. Got to the office, checked in, did the pregnancy urine test, got called in quickly, went through the whole height/weight/med history routine. About 5 mins later I sat down in my OBGYN's office. He described the lab findings (CIN-III), detailed the procedure, the tools and supplies they would use, aftercare and answered any questions I had. He then led me into a procedure room (pretty sure it was the same one I had my bloody biopsy in). I got undressed from the waist down like a pap, sat in the procedure chair, draped a little paper blanket over my bare bits and waited. The doctor came in with his nurse and went to work.
They again cracked me open with a speculum, this time it was rubberized on some parts. This is so your vagina doesn't get fried from the electrical current, otherwise your pubes and vulva will look like Marv in Home Alone. They also slapped a little rubber pad on my thigh to "ground" me like I'm some kind heavy duty machinery. Colpo machine comes forward so the doc can zoom in on your cervix. He applied 2 types of solution if I recall correctly: the normal vinegar solution to highlight abnormal cells and an iodine solution to highlight normal cells. Someone can correct me if that's wrong. The solutions and their uses were the least of my concerns.
He then went in with 4 lidocaine injections to numb the area, total of about 1 ml of lido I think. He used a very small needle and upon insertion, it felt like a little pinch. Now, for those afraid of needles, it is a long ish needle but the actual poke is minimal. Although some women report that the inject was the worst part. That was not the case here but the visual can be a bit alarming. After the first injection, I didn't feel the other 3. I felt comfortable going forward with the procedure, and my doc kept checking in with me to make sure I was ok. I did feel an increase in my heart rate post-lidocaine, but it wasn't concerning. I wasn't sure if this was from the "holy shit he's about to start zapping" or as a side effect of the lidocaine. Regardless, my heart rate came back down to a reasonable level given the circumstances in a few minutes. I was actually so comfortable at this point, I managed to relax my asscheeks after they were clamped together like a vise grip from the moment my derriere hit the chair.
I'm not really sure what happened after the injections, I knew he was using the LEEP machine but I don't know how long that lasted and when the wound was being created vs. cauterized as I didn't feel anything except some mild cramping/discomfort. I didn't flinch like I did with the biopsy. When the doc was finished, he applied a little bit of Monsel's, described how much he removed, went over aftercare again, we said our thank yous and goodbyes. I got dressed and went on my way, snacking on my madeleines on my way home (I walked again lol). I felt well post-procedure and even stopped at Target to do some shopping and smell some summer collection candles. I did feel myself bleeding but when I got home and checked the pad, there was a minimal amount of blood. Some women here have reported a distinct burning smell during their LEEP, I didn't smell anything but I also have sinus issues soooo maybe I just didn't pick up on it? My appointment was at 9 a.m. and I was out by 9:32.
When I got home I had some orange juice, water then slept for about 8 to 9 hours. I did have little cry sessions here and there after my procedure. But I was also sleep deprived and know I tend to get emotional. Regardless, take some time off after a LEEP, stay home around your own germs if possible. Get some of your favorite snacks, a face mask and a Nintendo switch or something. This is a good time for some self-care and rest, girlies.
Friday, day after LEEP: no bleeding, minor cramping/discomfort.
Saturday: Usual morning pee met with some blood in the toilet paper. Nothing in my pad though. Throughout the day I slept on and off, I've been more tired than usual. My body and mind has gone through some shit so I'm not mad at myself for being sleepy. I did experience some heavier bleeding throughout the day that was mostly dark colored. The blood level was about the same if not less than what I'd experience with a period. No unusual smell. I did shed the liquid bandage. Did have some mild cramping at certain points during the day but not debilitating or worth taking ibuprofen over.
Sunday: Energy levels finally back up to something normal, don't feel as tired. Still bleeding dark red blood/brown discharge but it's minor. Ran some errands today, I figured gravity would cause me to bleed more but it's about the same as yesterday if not less.
If there's interest, I'll check in at maybe the 2 week and 4 week mark, or whenever I remember since this is my throwaway account.
Overall the LEEP was way better than the biopsy in my experience. Reddit had me freaking out. I know I'm lucky, and this post isn't to dismiss any terrible or painful experience other women have had. I want to share my 'positive' experience, since most of my mental state surrounding my diagnosis, fears, the upgrade from LSIL to HSIL, has been negative.
Oh and I did get insurance literally a week before my LEEP, thank God.
If you have any questions please feel free to ask them below!
TL;DR: -Colpo: easy -Biopsy: sucks. Most pain I've ever felt and felt nauseous/uneasy after. Ask your doctor if you can take ibuprofen prior to a biopsy. Monsel's solution/liquid bandaid came out in sac-like alien baby about 36 to 48 hours later. Was able to have intercourse 2-2.5 weeks post-biopsy. No insertion of anything for about 3 days after. -LEEP: easy-ish? 600 mg ibuprofen 1 hour before procedure. Anxiety inducing but once I was numbed with local anesthesia, I felt nothing except some mild cramping. The injection didn't hurt and caused no serious side effects. No smell. No excessive bleeding. Felt fine post-LEEP but did experience some bleeding. It's been less than a week so I'll update if anything spooky happens, if no updates then expect everything went fine. No intercourse/tampons/etc for 3 to 6 weeks.
Tips: -Prioritize self care throughout this experience especially. It'll help you stay calm and heal. -Dress comfy for procedures -Take some snacks and water to your appointments for post-procedure ick -Do your research. Knowledge is power even if it makes you uncomfortable. Youtube was a great resource for me, I like to see what's going to happen before it does. Just try not to get worked up like I did. -Ask questions. If a doctor makes you feel stupid, see another doctor if possible. -Have someone with you for support and to make sure you get home ok -If you experience fever, intense pain, soaking through pads, or notice any weird smell: GO TO A DOCTOR

Does anyone else feel really off during a flare up?
Aside from the normal fatigue, bloody stool, cramping, nausea, chills etc. I feel like confused - really brain foggy and out of it. Just wondering if anyone else feels the same?
I am drinking a lot and eating enough even if it’s coming out lol I just feel like out of it.

I’m moving back in with my parents to make things a little easier for myself (and for them since I’ll be paying them rent and they won’t have to drive to help me with things when needed.) I’m insanely lucky that my family is supportive, even if they don’t fully understand.
Unfortunately, moving is brutal and I overexerted myself yesterday. I woke up at 5am this morning with nausea, chills, aches, and a sore throat. Today my family is doing the moving and I’m laying down and just watching. I want to help, I feel so guilty just laying here while they do all the work, but I feel awful.
Honestly I started feeling like I was starting to heal from ME since it’s been a while since I’ve had a crash, but I guess I just have a relatively high threshold and have been doing well pacing myself. I work full time and don’t really do anything else anymore in order to stay within my limits.
Just a rant. This illness takes away a lot of physical abilities but it really messes with your mind, too.

My mom has hypothyroidism and is taking levothyroxine for it. Last night she was having chills, and this morning she fell. Her symptoms now are extreme fatigue (I have never seen her like this), some nausea, chills, and a headache. No fever. She can't get out of bed. Since she has hypothyroidism and a lot of her symptoms are hypothyroidism symptoms, I'm thinking that's what she's experiencing. However, she's been taking levothyroxine for a while with no problems. Is it possible her hypothyroidism has progressed and her current medication is too weak now, or that her medication has lost potency?
Edit: She has a fever now so she just caught something and is sick, her hypothyroidism seems fine.

First/Previous
Satan was on the air, on the night, within everything in the long shadows cast by the setting sun and with him came a chill to the air that I could never hope to internalize; it might kill me.
From a rotted abode across the street, I watched the large outbuilding and the field in which we’d buried the hand and I found myself in prayer—among the torn and exposed studs of dry-rotted wood and rusted metal I caught my own whispers and forced myself to stop like I intended to convene with God right there in the dark; I wasn’t there for Allah. It was something else that compelled me there. I whispered the prayer and felt foolish at my own voice and ducked lowly among the rubble and held my breath to watch the sunlight go from the land and in a blink, the light was gone, and I was there in darkness that at first was a terror and then I slipped into it through blinks and the surroundings became clearer even in the dark.
Time went on.
I was exposed, but the yougins were safe—Trouble too. If nothing else mattered in the world, then they should go on without me. It had come to me so suddenly (maybe it was the prayer that withdrew such a sentimentality) that I liked them okay.
Before anything else, a cat’s hiss came so faintly that I plugged my ear with my pinky, shook it and listened again; the noise grew closer, and I could do nothing but watch the field and squint in the darkness and wait.
Fumbling, I counted the glass containers with touch only—two in my jacket pocket and the third by my feet—and my fingers then danced to the threadbare strap of the shotgun on my shoulder; I shed my pack for mobility.
The domineering creature lurched forcefully from the shadows and then went on display in the moonlight properly and its arched back protruded even over its own head till it lifted that muzzle, so its rattish face was cut out in a black outline; it was sniffing, and the hiss came through the air again. The Alukah kept a serpentine strut, smoothly gliding across the ground as it used its hands like forelegs to press its snout against the ground. In watching, I consciously relaxed my shoulders and refrained from biting my teeth together. That creature found the spot it had been searching for—it seemed roughly the place we’d buried the hand—and it took its claws there with bestial shovelfuls.
In a hurry, I gathered the jar I’d placed by my feet—it would not slide so gracefully into my jacket as the others—and as quietly as I could, I slinked around the rubble, through two studs, and onto the dirt. Within milliseconds, my own heartbeat pounded all over my body and I stood in the street and lit the Molotov cocktail with a lighter and took closer to the creature.
It shifted around and in that moment I wished I had a light source powerful enough to expose its body; I tossed the cocktail in a high arch and it exploded in a moment by the creature’s feet as it stood and pivoted to look at me fully; its solid white eyes were wide in a glance of moon-shine and it slung itself from the eruption of flames around its feet with violent speed. Its black hair hung down the sides of its face and its head parted midway to expose a snarl. It stalked in a circle around the concentration of flames, remaining mostly in the dark; the thing moved slowly nearer, those long arms swaying in front of itself with each step.
You should know better. It stopped midstride, coming no closer and we each stood there in the field roughly thirty feet from one another, and I refused to take my eyes from it. The boy’s mine. The flames began to flicker and die. For how long we stood like that, I couldn’t say, and I waited.
I couldn’t find a voice till it was all dark again, besides the moon and stars. “Why can’t you leave us be? There’s easier pickins.”
You offer yourself too much credit, Harlan. We remained in silence and in the darkness the creature may have been a statue—in a blink it seemed as much. You are a corpse, no? A walking corpse of a man! A terrible sickness is in you. I know it. I see it on you as plainly as I see your fear.
Rigidity took over my body and I puffed my chest out like it meant something and I shook my head, “I’m not afraid.”
Not of me, no. Of yourself? Something. The voice lingered with the ends of its words, drawing them out first guttural then it left them on hisses. Something I know.
I lit the next Molotov, and the creature didn’t move; I threw the bottle furiously and it went into the darkness like a far candleflame till it erupted in the spot the Alukah had been standing—the thing had leapt from there, leaving me unawares and I lowered myself to the ground in a crouch, swiveling my head around to catch the thing in the dark. The flames on the ground danced brightly, leaving me light-blinded.
Not again, said the thing, You will not catch me so easily with fire again. It was behind me, nearer the outbuilding and it took a moment through blinks for my eyesight to return well enough to see the grotesqueness of the misshapen massive humanoid thing.
The Molotov explosion burned then disappeared and we stood looking at one another again and I felt silly, foolish, radically unprepared, and overwhelmingly trivial in the grand scheme of the universe—if it wanted to, it could leap the distance between us and rip me to shreds. Why didn’t it kill me? Why wasn’t I dead?
That damnable night creature extended one of its massive forehands, flexing the digits on the end of its arm and whispered its words like a plea, The boy, Harlan. That is all. Take that brimstone smelly girl and carry that shell of a body—walk on to whatever hole you humans call home.
Hoping to not draw a movement from the creature, I pressed my forearm against my ribcage, feeling the last Molotov that was there in the inner pocket and I gently slid the strap from my shoulder, and held my shotgun in both hands, licking my dry lips, watching the dark frame of the Alukah, fearing even a moment of distraction; my eyes locked on the creature and I refused to speak.
No deal then. It wasn’t a question; its rattish snout offered a mild nod of understanding. You despise a good sense of words.
I readied the shotgun, legs spaced in proper formation—looking down the barrel, I held my breath and upon squeezing the trigger, the thing knocked into my shoulder, but the creature was gone. In scanning, I found the thing had moved from the field and bounded wildly across the street towards the dead ruins of Annapolis, its muscular limbs made short work of fleeing.
The outbuilding remained quiet and erectly tall, and I moved to its shadow and cussed whispers for wasting ammunition. Only three shells remained; worse, I’d wasted two of my explosives. I watched the horizon in the opposite direction of the crowded foundations of Annapolis and carefully held my breath in watching and I prayed again, hoping that the commotion would not draw attention.
An overwhelming sense of foolishness welled in my guts, and I trotted off towards the direction I’d watched the Alukah go, through the ramshackle streets haphazardly.
The darkness was maddeningly empty, so I filled it with shouts, “C’mon! This is your turf, ain’t it? This darkness is yours so come and take me if you can!” Rusty as I was, I held the shotgun like never before, squinting my eyes, keeping my pace in unison with my heartbeat. There’s a place in that darkness that is beyond reproach, beyond the comprehension of a city dweller, beyond even my own understanding and I found myself padding through those streets at an accelerated rate, hopeful to confront the demon and I only found more dead and vacant lots and I crossed more than two intersections where the signs were either gone or indecipherable in the black shadows cast there. I wished for a payback of the demon’s hunt or perhaps I wished for something even more than that—what did I need to prove and to who? “You sick and twisted and foul beast!” I went so loud I continued to hoarseness, “Slimy fuck!” I’s so mad that spit came with the words too.
Still, there was nothing and I came to a final crossroads, a place more commercial—at least for a flatland dead town—where brick storefronts half-stood on those four corners. Finding my voice again, I continued my tirade, cursing the demon, “Come get some—c’mon already! Here’s your fight?” I was scared though.
A sudden noise from the dilapidated storefront to my left startled me to pivot and watch, gun pulled up, and I focused as hard as I could on the recesses of that shadowed place; it was a large antiquated face where a window might have sat many years prior. Wet and hungry sounds emanated from that place, the disgusting noises of a fiend—even in knowing it, I was surprised in seeing the new creature spill out in a lumpish mess of slickened muscles, lubricated, its innumerable arms and legs clawed its own body forward so that it rolled like a mushy ball—each of those limbs remained human in nature. Upon the thing pulling itself onto the street, I staggered backwards, gun still raised, and watched its form take a modicum of understanding in the moonlight; its mouths—sporadically, illogically placed over its mass of a body—opened and seemed to try and speak with each one merely letting go of meekly audible, painful sighs in doing so. The eyes, spaced much the same as the mouths, blinked and rolled as if it was torture for the thing to live. The mutant was a tongue-like mass at its center, and it was almost the size of a horse—I’d seen fiends grow much larger, but this was still a great threat.
In moving away from where it spilled onto the street, I stumbled backwards and caught myself on the backfoot and clumsily spun into a sprint; my boots pounded in my flight from the thing, and it chased after.
Its mouths exhausted terrible sighs as it gained speed in the relative openness of the street and in seconds, I would not have been surprised if the thing snatched me by an ankle and devoured me without thought—not that fiends had any other thoughts above the basest urge to consume.
The pursuit kept me going in the dark, watching the still shadows of the dilapidated housing and I pushed on until I tasted copper; my breathing went raspy—it’d been so long since I’d been forced to run from such a creature in the open. I took a glance back and saw it coming, gaining speed in its perpetual roll; its body excreted some fluid across itself so that it could glide more easily.
Coming to a crossroads I’d passed earlier, or perhaps it was a new one—I couldn’t fathom in the dark—I took in the direction of what I thought was south and ran full throttle; my knees ached.
In hoping to confuse the mutant, I quickly dove towards the right side of the southbound street, towards some ramshackle, through the skeletal framing of a skinless house without a roof; I pushed through the pencil-narrow vertical beams and stumbled through, landing onto the unseen ground on the other side. My left leg spasmed and in the millisecond that it took for my nerves to register the pain, I let out a mild, “Oh.” I tried to lift myself from the spot and found that my left leg refused to bend straight; in total horror—more so from my body failing than the mutant—I swiveled my torso around and scooted on my rear across the ground, raking myself in the opposite direction of the fiend.
The mutant slammed into the frame; its many arms reached through the bars and in a moment, it began to use its hands to lift itself along the exposed wall and I scooted further away till my back met the bars of where an opposite wall would’ve gone. In a scramble, I snatched the shotgun, pushed myself sniff against the bars on my side and watched the thing down the barrel; I waited and concentrated on my own breathing. If nothing else worked, I still had that Molotov—if not for it then for me.
As it crested the top of the wall made of bars, I watched patiently and only when I was certain I fired.
The mutant, the great meatball-thing that it was, lost its grasp for a moment and slipped onto the arrangement of vertical bars; I gush of liquid, illuminated in starlight, shot from its base of its soft body; it began to try and catch its grasp on the bars and I took a moment for myself to examine my left knee—I pulled it as close to my face as I could manage which was hardly at all—some black triangular mass had lodged itself into my flesh; more accurately, I’d slammed myself onto something sharp in my panic to flee the fiend. In a second, not thinking of the repercussions, I gripped the thing with my left hand and clamped my mouth onto my right hand, biting into fat of my hand by the thumb. The debris was free from my leg, and I let it to fall to the ground; blood ran freely into my mouth and I let go of the bite and tentatively lifted the gun again, ignoring the pain; the creature continued to struggle, and I fired again. It slipped again, further impaling itself on the bars.
I had one shell left.
Using the place I’d propped my back, I pushed free from the ground and put all my weight onto my right leg, testing the left; I staggered—hopped really—around in the small square of ground surrounded by metal framing and searched the ground for something long. I unearthed the dirt around my feet and found a long piece of metal rod; setting the gun to the side, I lifted the metal rod over my head and then slowly arched it out from my body. It would give me just enough room to further injure the thing while also staying well out of its grasp.
I swung the makeshift weapon down like a bat or a sword and the fiend slid a little further down the bars, the exit wounds began to show across the top of its roundish body, and I smacked it again—its mouths spoke words that could nearly be understood. Though it took only moments, I was thoroughly exhausted by the time the creature had reached the ground again, good and dead and impaled upon six of those vertical bars. I tossed the weapon to the ground, lifted my gun, and shimmied through the bars on the opposite side of the square.
Adrenaline only lasts so long, and my left leg throbbed to the point of nausea; I did not want to inspect the wound, but on rounding the ramshackle and watching the still dead thing, I stumbled into the street and knelt and lifted my pant leg. It was dark and bloody and already it was burning. Infection was my first thought. A puncture wound could spell a terrible fate. I shifted to sit in the street. My leg didn’t bend right.
The cat’s hiss came from the darkness and there wasn’t a way I could respond in time; I felt those long nasty fingers grab me by the back of my neck and I was lifted immediately from the ground—the gun clattered to the ground and all I could do was initially freeze and stiffen and then my hands moved to the grasp which held me firmly by the throat; those massive knuckles were like stones.
The Alukah had me and situated me so that it could look into my face, its long black hair hid its eyes but I could smell its breath and see its teeth which rested in its round mouth. I could snap you. It seemed to nod its head, but to detect humanity in that damnable pale face was a mistake.
I choked.
What’s that? It relaxed its grasp on my throat.
“Do it.”
Why’re you crying? Its foot brushed against the gun at its feet, and it lifted it with its free hand, and it commented casually, Little human toy.
It moved, holding me by the throat, dragging me along the ground in an abnormal sluggish gait. It was hard to see anything but the night sky, anything but the strange angle of the demon—with its grip, it was hard to breathe, and tears indeed welled in my eyes, and I held to its forearm to distribute some of the weight of my own body away from my neck. With its tugging, I could not speak, but it spoke.
I’ll squeeze you dry, but your blood’s too tainted to drink. That won’t make it any less interesting. I’ll twist you like a rag and see which hole it comes from first. More than that, you’ll scream. You’ll scream so loud everyone will know. Everyone will know what I’ve done to you—once you’re no more than ruin. Not even Mephisto would balk at my handiwork once I’ve had my time with you. God will look on your sour corpse with so much disgust there won’t be a place for you anywhere. Only Oblivion, a place worse than any.
The creature moved us to the open field, tilted its head back and forth, rose its rattish face to the sky and snorted and then clearly sniffed, dropping the gun to its feet to brush the long black hair from its eyes; its muscular body shone in the moonlight so that even its bluish veins stood plainly from its white skin. It shifted its gaze to the outbuilding—maybe fifty yards away—where the youngins were hidden.
Deftly, the thing lifted me from where it had kept me by its side and my feet levitated over the air, I felt feet taller, suspended from that long arm the way I was. It took its free hand to my midsection and I felt the digits of its hand squeeze my ribs and it let go of my throat and I coughed and wheezed, placing my hands on its fingers to dig into that thing’s skin—it didn’t matter—in seconds, a scream escaped my rattling throat; it squeezed more and I felt the glass bottle in my jacket burst from the force then the Alukah gave relief and I tried to gulp air, but felt pangs along my body. My jacket was wetted from blood by the broken bottle shards entering my body or from the contents of the bottle or both.
Urine? It pulled me close to itself, sniffed, and shook its head. Oil? it cackled, Again! Beg for the help you do not deserve! It held me outright once more.
Again, the great hand constricted me and again I could not help but to let out a scream—my lungs were on fire, my voice stretched like a dying animal. I heard barks and saw nothing through wild choking tears. The grip softened.
I coughed more and tried to speak; the Alukah brought me close to itself as if to wait and listen to what I had to say. Weeping words fell out in a whisper, “Kill me. Do it. I don’t mind.”
Another sharp laugh exited the thing’s throat and it squeezed again, facing me out so that I could look at the black outline of the outbuilding. I heard the barking again and I saw the figures stumble out from the sidelong face of the outbuilding. I blinked to remove the tears.
A voice, neither mine nor the demon’s, shouted an attempt at authority, “Let him go!” It was Gemma. They rounded the building so that moonlight removed them from obscurity. Gemma held Trouble on a lead while Andrew followed.
Trouble growled.
The smile was audible through the Alukah’s voice, Strong words for one so dainty. I felt its grip tighten and I chuffed and couldn’t manage a word.
“Get it!” shouted Gemma; she let go of Trouble’s lead and the dog looked curiously at me and the demon where we were and tucked its tail and circled to hide behind the children.
The Alukah laughed. Scary dog.
I was lightheaded while my vision went; I should die—I’d bleed out there or some unknown medical oddity would shut me off. Perhaps I’d will myself to death. My head nodded tiredly, and I fought it, blinking, shaking my head to maintain my eyes.
“You want me?” The boy took a few steps forward and his voice cracked. “We could make a deal.”
The Alukah lowered me so that my feet skimmed the ground but shifted to keep a tight hold around only my throat. Oh?
“What are you doing?” shouted Gemma; she closed the space between herself and Andrew and shoved him.
He shoved her back. “Me for him,” he addressed the demon.
Is that the deal?
Everything in my body protested while I reached for the jean pocket on my right side; I could not reach it. I stretched and my ribs screamed in pain—it was worse than bruising. The demon did not notice me moving. Maybe because my movements were weak, subtle. I tried again while mentally asking God for help and I came short of the pocket. I cursed Him and then my shaking fingers found the pocket. I withdrew the lighter there.
“That’s right,” said Andrew.
“No, he won’t,” Gemma’s voice was aflame.
It’s not your deal to make, girly.
I took the lighter to my jacket, lit it, and the flames grew around me in a flash, feeding on the oil.
The Alukah hissed, attempted to unwrap its hand from around me while I dug into its forearm with two claws and bit onto the thing’s hand for extra purchase. It swung me around and my legs flew limply. It took every bit of strength I had.
Let go! The Alukah shrieked.
Trouble barked, the children screamed, and I bit deeper till that thick black blood filled my mouth. The flames were immaculate, cleansing, more furious than I could’ve imagined. Not for life—that’s not why I held on so strongly—it was for them, for Andrew and Gemma. Me and that creature should’ve burned together. Fitting.
Delirium took over and I swiveled overhead in the demon’s tantrum, holding onto that arm. The Alukah hissed, roared, shouted nasty epithets.
The gunshot rang out and I met ground, hard.
Exhaustion or death could’ve taken me then, but it was the former.
When consciousness came again, it was hands, smacking hands that brought me to life—then the vague smell of burnt hair, cooked flesh. My body stung and I could not move but to lift my face from the dirt where I lay belly-flat.
“You almost died,” said Gemma somewhere between hope and sorrow, “You almost killed yourself!” She shook me and shoved me hard enough so that I rolled on my back. She’d been crying, but surely, we’d won. What was there to cry for? If we’d lost, she wouldn’t be talking at all.
She left me and I stared at the sky through slits. The sun was coming but I couldn’t feel the warmth; I couldn’t feel anything (that would be a sweet memory in the time to come). It was quiet save the crackling I heard; it was like the lowness of a dying fire. It wasn’t me? I wasn’t on fire?
When she returned, she lifted my head to place my pack underneath it; it elevated my vision. I surveyed my surroundings. The outbuilding was there and the Alukah lay on the ground perhaps ten feet from me; its body charred and sizzled and caught little flames in response to the cresting sunrise; everything was a daze—we’d won.
Gemma’s eyes glittered, and she called the dog over and the dog sniffed my face and the girl’s lips remained flat, expressionless.
I saw the boy’s body—it lay motionless alongside the dead Alukah and alongside that body was my shotgun. The body’s head sat on its side, disconnected from its owner, facing away from where I lay.
“He killed it. He shot it.” Gemma sat beside me, and Trouble placed her snout on the girl’s shoulder. “We’re going to die,” she nodded.
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Throwaway account because I don’t want my family members on Reddit worrying
Female 33 years old 5’2” 130lbs Physically active and working at a physically demanding job.
Medical Hx: Genetic Torsion Dystonia (dyt1 mutation), Stevens Johnson Syndrome (2005), cholecystectomy (2008), IVF treatments (2020), Pregnancy w/out complications 2020-4/2021 but prolonged labor and c-section, COVID-19 (December 2021), 4 total COVID vaccines. I was prone to UTI as a child and as an adult I’m prone to sinus infection and chronic cough after respiratory illnesses.
Current medications: Levocetirizine (seasonal allergies), Vitamin 2 (2000 iu/daily), Fish oil daily, fiber capsules daily (as recommended by her GI), medical cannabis for dystonia pain (less than weekly, and sometimes less than monthly).
Recent Hx and concerns:
In Fall 2021, I began experiencing epigastric pain/pressure unrelated to food consumption. The sensation also occasionally was uncomfortable enough to make breathing difficult. Doctors suggested heartburn. An upper GI fluoroscopy did not indicate reflux, chest x-ray was normal.
I tested positive for COVID-19 in mid-December 2021. My symptoms were considered “mild-moderate” though I was out of work for 3 weeks. I continued to have a persistent cough requiring multiple courses of antibiotics and inhaled steroids to clear. I also continued to experience sharp and sudden headaches for a few seconds at a time, chronic fatigue, and blurry vision. Ophthalmologist exam was normal. Around that time I began to experience pain on the outer edge of my left breast. Ultrasound was normal.
In August 2022, I began experiencing frequent (monthly) migraine headaches with aura. I have only experienced a handful of such migraines over my lifetime prior to this. I was prescribed Sumatriptan, which was ineffective. Was then given Ubrelvey (ineffective) and later (2023) Relpax and Fioricet (Relpax dulls the migraine, but does not take it away. Fioricet was ineffective) as well as Nurtec (i had an allergic reaction–hives). In winter 2022, I had a couple of instances of sudden nausea, diarrhea, and vomiting. My PCP ordered abdominal and pelvic ultrasounds, all of which were normal.
In the summer of 2023, migraines became more extreme and more frequent (only a week or 2 in between). I began experiencing jaw and tongue pain, light sensitivity (not previously experienced with migraines), tingling in the left hand, dry mouth, and sensitivity to touch and temperature sensations during migraine episodes. Medications continued to be ineffective. In August 2023, I also began experiencing dizziness/unsteadiness when moving quickly or turning, worsening fatigue with need to nap regularly, mental fog and forgetfulness, inability to focus. A sleep study was ordered and results were normal. I underwent a neuropsychological evaluation, the results of which were similar to my previous assessment 5 years prior.
In November 2023, the I began experiencing frequent sudden onset of sweating/chills and racing heart followed by diarrhea and vomiting, sometimes lasting hours. These episodes would then be followed by up to 2 weeks of constipation and sharp abdominal pains, sometimes severe enough to make breathing difficult. The pain was being similar to gallstones. I received an abdominal x-ray after an episode, which showed significant bowel buildup but not in the colon, and constipation was alleviated naturally later that day. These episodes appeared to be in connection with my menstrual cycle (onset and conclusion, or sometimes ovulation). Hormone panels were normal as were stool and urine. After consult with a gastroenterologist and an upper endoscopy, my GI system appeared normal, though with mild inflammation from the vomiting. I was prescribed a 2-month course of Pepcid to assist with the inflammation. In considering the GI exam and migraine history, I was diagnosed with abdominal migraines. I continue to experience epigastric pain with some regularity, and sometimes quite intensely.
Due to migraine severity and frequency, my neurologist ordered a brain MRI w/o contrast in early January 2024, which showed sinus swelling (I came down with a cold later that day) and no other concerns. During the month leading up to this MRI, I had a persistent sinus infection and had been on repeated courses of antibiotics and steroids. The neurologist prescribed daily Topiramate with a tapering up dose. I was only able to taper up to 50mg each night and developed the following side effects before stopping the medication after 6 weeks: significant lapses in memory, worsening fatigue and inability to stay awake, rapid weight loss, tingling in the hands, menstrual irregularity, worsening brain fog, difficulty breathing, and low stamina. An EKG and chest CT w/ and w/o were ordered and were normal. I continued to get migraines on this medication. Difficulty breathing and all other side effects were alleviated after the medication was stopped. The neurologist then prescribed nortriptyline, which the patient responded better to, and migraine frequency decreased. However, after a month, my heart rate was consistently elevated, so the medication was stopped.
CBC in early January was normal except for: WBC 11.6 (high) HCT 45.4 (high) MCHC 32.4 (low)
In late January 2024, I began to notice a squeezing sensation in both knees when I stood from sitting, and a similar sensation around the waist when she was getting dressed or undressed, or in the shower. The squeezing sensations increased in frequency and severity, but are not painful. In February, I noticed numbness in the left-most toes of my left foot while in the shower and within a month was also experiencing it in my right foot. These sensations come and go, but happen daily/near daily and throughout the day. I also now experience occasional numbness along the left side of my left hand, and occasional shooting electric sensations in the same spot. I continue to have brain fog, fatigue with the need for regular naps, blurry vision (worse after exercise/exertion, with fatigue, or with stress), squeezing sensations in my legs/knees and waist, and the numbness sensations in both feet, occasionally my knees, and left hand. I also notice I sometimes stumbles over my own feet, my legs feel heavy often and sometimes weak, and I am quick to lose stamina.
I met with a second neurologist who ordered cervical and thoracic spine MRIs w/ and w/o contrast, which appear normal. Blood panels for STDs, autoimmune diseases, vitamin deficiencies have all been ordered and are unremarkable.
I consulted with a long-Covid clinic, which does not feel my symptoms are related to long-covid except possibly the blurry vision, fatigue, and foggy headedness, based on symptom onset compared to last known infection. They prescribed speech therapy, which I will start in June at a rehabilitation center. They also suggested amantadine for the fatigue, but I haven’t started it. A nerve conduction test was mentioned as a possibility, but was not recommended as the doctor did not feel it would be accurate or beneficial.
Since March 1, 2024, I have been getting weekly acupuncture, and have been on a gluten and dairy free diet. I limit caffeine intake to only decaf coffee or tea infrequently (less than weekly), and has not consumed alcohol since the onset of the abdominal migraines in November 2023. On one occasion, I was unable to avoid gluten and dairy, and the following day experienced severe leg pain, though it could have been weather related as well.
Thanks for taking the time to read! Any thoughts or suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

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

Hi all, I wanted to share my (26f) positive experience with MA so far. Everyone’s body reacts differently, but I read a lot of horror stories that psyched me out and I’m hoping my story can alleviate some of those troubling thoughts for someone.
Something in my gut told me to take an at-home test. I was only one day late, but it was positive. I took three more tests to be sure, and yep, all glaringly positive. My fiancé (28m) and I just knew this wasn’t the right time for us. I opted to order through Aid Access thanks to this sub. Ohio doesn’t have super crazy strict bans (yet), but I felt better handling it on my own. The process was very easy, and they were very responsive. Everything is through email! From inquiry to delivery was about 5 days for me. I paid $150, but Aid Access offers financial support if you need it.
Based off the first day of my last period (April 11) I was just over 5 weeks when I took Mifepristone (Thursday at around 4:20 p.m.) I didn’t have any spotting or discomfort. The next day, I took 800mg of ibuprofen and some anti nausea meds half an hour before Misoprostol (I took them orally on Friday at 4:35 p.m.) The first and only glaringly obvious symptom I noticed were chills. At around 6:10 p.m. I went to the bathroom and passed my first large clot, and the bleeding was in full force. I had mild cramping (I’d say about a 5/10 pain wise) but the heating pad did wonders to relieve them. I was able to eat a light dinner and didn’t feel nauseous at all. I did have some diarrhea, but nothing super uncomfortable.
I had to change my first pad at about 7:45, and the fatigue set in around 9 p.m. I slept like a baby until around 1:20 a.m. when I got up to change my pad again (not even soaked all the way through, but I HATE the feeling of pads and needed to change it for my sanity.) I woke up again at 6:30 a.m. to some more clots and very minimal cramping (about a 1/10.)
I’m still bleeding, but it’s definitely slowing down to about my typical period flow. I’m honestly so relieved at how truly easy and comfortable the process was for me. I know how scary this can be. Everything you’re feeling right now is valid! I acknowledge that I caught everything very early and that isn’t the case for everyone. But I’m hoping my story can help calm some nerves. You will get through this ❤️