36F, 5’11 198lbs POTS syndrome diagnosis, it is not severe at all.
40mg fluoxetine and 150mg bupropion xl daily, plus Zyrtec and women's multivitamin. No recreational drug use, very occasional alcohol use (a couple beers only, never liquor or wine). Non smoker. 3-4 cups of coffee a day, no other beverages aside from plain water or the occasional sparkling water.
I came down with a very nasty head cold shortly after recovering from mastitis from milk congestion after weaning my 17 month old. I had Sudafed leftover because the doc had suggested taking a dose or two to assist in lactation suppression.
While trying to keep up with my spunky toddler and busy schedule, over the course of 2 days in addition to my usual meds, I took several doses of Sudafed. My post nasal drip caused a cough that was keeping me up all night, so l added delsym to it. I foolishly overlooked the fact that it was a 12 hour dose, and probably took 5-6 doses over the course of 2 days.
The night before last around 11pm, out ot nowhere, I felt practically drunk. Very loopy, warm, and fuzzy. Was reading on my laptop and had to put it away because I was starting to struggle to understand anything I read. Went to bed. Woke up coughing at 4am, took a dose of delsym in my unending genius. Back to sleep until my toddler woke up around 7. Woke up with the intention of getting him from his crib, fell over on the way. Intense vertigo. I was stuttering and having trouble speaking properly. I was super confused. Sweating my butt off. Husband stayed home from work and I rested up. Couldn't sleep though- I felt positively wired. Would occasionally nod off then full body jerk/startle myself awake. Had a very brutal day and night last night, it was all very jarring and unpleasant.
Am I crazy to think this may have been very mild seratonin syndrome? I took my regular meds as usual yesterday because I had no idea what was going on with me, but now I'm pretty apprehensive about taking my SSRI.
Honestly , I’m feeling pretty gun-shy about all meds right now. I know that's an overreaction and I caused this by taking way too many meds, and the specific ones I took shouldn't be mixed...out of desperation to keep up with my life despite being sick and needing rest.
But I really don't want to ever feel what I felt over the last ~36 hours again.
l've been wanting to come off my fluoxetine for quite some time but planned on asking my doc to taper me off. But now I can't imagine willfully taking an SSRI any time soon. So knowing and fully understanding that cold turkey is not an ideal way of stopping SSRI meds, can anyone tell me vaguely what I can expect and maybe suggest mitigation tactics that are not drug-related?
Thanks in advance. Sorry for the long rambling. Still not feeling 100% normal. And for laypeople who have read this far... please do not make the mistake I made of thinking OTC drugs are benign in nature. I'l never be so careless about what I put in my body again.

I started LDN last night to help with the neuropathy I’ve started to get in my feet (but he’s also hoping it’ll help with my cfs, fibro, migraines, and GI issues), and I’m kind of worried because in everything I’ve read says you start low at like 1mg and then work your way up to 4.5mg….but my neurologist has me on 4.5mg right off the bat. Is that him being careless or is it really ok to start at 4.5mg?
After my first dose last night, I’ve had a low grade headache that feels different from the type of headaches I usually get, very thirsty, and my neuropathy actually got WORSE. It went from its usual light, all over pins and needles…to that PLUS more concentrated feelings of being stabbed in the nerves, which caused my feet to reflexively jump and spasm like crazy, as if being stimulated by electricity. It was pretty awful.
And I can’t even cut the pills in half because they’re capsules 😩
Edit: and now a few hours after posting, I feel truly awful, feeling like I have a flu coming on (I don’t go out anywhere to get the flu, I’m almost entirely housebound) with a sore swollen throat and post nasal drip. WTFFFFFFFF

I received my 1st dose 9/22. Almost immediate (within 20 minutes after receiving shot) normal effects such as nasal drip, metallic taste, felt a little high and grumpy. A few days later started the arm and leg muscle weakness. Started upper chest soreness. Which I can only describe as "feeling bruised".
When I received my 1st dose I was 1 yr almost exactly to the date post covid. Had blood clot in RL lung & double pneumonia. Three weeks prior to received 1st dose I tested + for antibodies. On 9/28 while relaxing in bed without notice I suddenly started feeling like I was going to passed out. I sat at the end of my bed where it continued as my body kept feeling like I was passing out. There was no blackout or dizziness I went straight into passing out.
It wouldn't stop. I had to call ambulance. ER ruled out heart attack. Since 11/2 I have had 3 similar episodes and now as of yesterday I had a small episode. When this happens my body feels like it's draining circulation, I get warm circles all over body, lower back, arm pits, legs, groin area. After this happens my body gets extremely tired and weak. My arms get shaky. I have had extensive testing done. Seen just about every doctor including ENT. Not one has an explanation of what is happening. According to my doctors I was in perfect health at my physical in May of 2021. I'm just sharing my story in hopes that I can get answers and hopefully help someone who is struggling after getting pzfier vaccine.

We've been caring for a community cat at my grandmother's for almost 2 months. He's very sweet, lets us pet and hold him, and loves coming inside, but my grandmother's cat doesn't get along with him. We've looked after him since he was young, and he's over a year old now.
He's not feral, unlike the other two we're caring for there. One day, we found him with blood dripping from his neck. The ER vet diagnosed a cat bite abscess with fever and prescribed meds, requiring him to stay inside for 14 days. He also had diarrhea, which was diagnosed as Giardia—which we found out about ever since we brought him indoors at ur own house.
We've been treating him with meds through our primary vet with Metronidazole and he completed Pancur. Metronidazole liquid was a no go for 2 weeks because he kept spitting it out. Tablets have worked better in giving it to him. We're trying to resolve the Giardia and diarrhea first. We supervise him around our other indoor cats, but he doesn’t use the litter box correctly, so he uses pads instead.
He cries every night from 3am-7am. The vet said it's because he's used to being nocturnal, and prescribed Gabapentin 100mg every night, which helps but only gives him 4-5 hours of sleep. Recently, I've been giving him a half dose if he wakes up early. The vet said Gabapentin is safe long-term and can be tapered off, but the vet is not very concerned about the Giardia or Gabapentin.
We're keeping him inside until the Giardia is gone, supervising him to avoid litter box issues. Gabapentin sometimes doesn't work. I'm worried about long-term effects on his organs. I plan to move him to my apartment once repairs are done (weather stripping on ceiling from storm). Currently, he’s in a separate room at night. We try playing with him using toys, treats, catnip, and Feliway, but he's still wide awake before bed. I fear releasing him back outside where he might get hurt again or worse. He's so young and deserves better.
I’ve considered rehoming him but due to him being overly playful, I fear that he would repeatedly be rehomed or dropped off in the streets. It’s like he has ADHD :o
EDIT: my cats don’t mind him but also don’t want to play with him because he can be rough when playing. He’s very lean for a 1 year old. But he’s not aggressive either. My cats are between 3-16 years old! My 3 year old was like him when she was his age but not this hyper. She definitely has competition lol

Synopsis:
An engineer in another world—blending science and magic to achieve greatness in a world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — Runecrafting is slow burn. — What to Expect: - Weak to very strong progression - Hardcore wish fulfillment - A balance of action, kingdom building, and runecrafting. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine.
Next >

Chapter 01

-1-
Ethan’s fists pounded the punching bag, sending a rapid series of jabs that landed with resounding thumps, each strike punctuated by ragged breaths. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes, but he refused to stop, refused to surrender to the burning in his muscles or the rawness of his knuckles. He remained focused on punching.
Around him, the rest of the boxing team rested, even the coach looked like he needed a breather. But Ethan couldn’t afford to slow down—not with the first round of eliminations looming.
More, Ethan thought, his muscles burning as he threw another combination of jabs and cross punches. More, more, more.
Boxing had never been his choice; it was a path forced upon him by a father with unfulfilled dreams. Yet somewhere along the way, the thrill of the fight had ignited a fire within Ethan—a primal need to test the boundaries of his endurance, to feel alive in a way no textbook could provide.
But now his father lay dying in a hospital bed, and Ethan was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. His muscles burned and his knuckles were raw. But he couldn’t stop.
“Oy, mate, you should take a break.”
Jacob’s voice cut through Ethan’s reverie, and he turned to face his friend, chest heaving. “I can keep going. I’m fine.”
Jacob shook his head, concern etched across his features. “You’re going to end up hurting yourself. Listen, I know you’re worried about the eliminations and your dad, but you’ve got this. You’ll be fine. You’ve trained so hard. Harder than any of us, mate.” Jacob placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“It’s not enough,” Ethan stepped away from the punching bag. “Not yet.”
“What do you mean? You’ve improved a ton since you first started, and you’ve gotten to this level faster than anyone else. There’s no way you’re getting cut from the team.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Ethan said, sighing as he ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
“Listen, man,” Jacob said, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I get that you’re nervous. It’s normal, okay? But I’ve seen you out there. You’re good. Really good. If anything, the rest of us are the ones who should be worried—”
Before Jacob could continue, Ethan’s phone rang, the sound loud in the otherwise silent gym.
Looking at his phone made him frown and excuse himself. The caller ID was a familiar one. With his phone pressed against his ears, he walked down the corridor, leaving the other members of the boxing team behind.
“Hello?” Ethan said into the phone.
Then, his world tilted on his axis.
-2-
Ethan hated funerals.
It was a strange thing to say, and yet, there he was, thinking that exact same thing as he stood at the side, watching as a small crowd gathered around. The smell of freshly turned earth was thick in the air, along with a heavy dose of sorrow and grief. Or maybe that was his imagination; after all, most were likely putting on a show. A wake that lasted all of ten minutes. A quick eulogy. The final plop of dirt onto the polished wood coffin. Then they were gone. Just like that, they were gone.
His father’s funeral was over just like that.
Ethan waited a while longer after all the mourners had dispersed, then finally turned to look at his mother. His mother sat slumped in the front pew of the church; her gaze fixed on the ground. He sat beside his mother silently. She looked older today, like all the fight and life had just seeped from her body. They didn’t speak a word for the longest while, but finally, his mother broke the silence.
“Do you blame me?”
“No,” he said automatically.
You do, a small voice said in the back of his head. Because maybe, if they hadn’t sent him away, he could’ve pursued his dreams...
“Thank you,” his mother said, the relief in her eyes far too apparent. She wrapped her arms around herself. Her hands trembled. She swallowed audibly before she continued. “I was such a stupid little girl when we married. I had no choice but to leave for Dubai because...”
“You don’t need to explain anything.” Ethan looked down at his knuckles. “I understand.”
“He always blamed himself,” she said suddenly, and Ethan frowned. “For not just letting you into civil engineering. For pressuring you into, well, violence.”
Ethan smiled wryly, staring up at the empty rafters overhead.
Such violence, Ethan, a voice whispered into his ears. Focus on your studies, not on hurting people. You’ll have a bright future, I’m sure of it.
Ethan sighed as he felt the memory rise unbidden in his mind. It wasn’t the first time his mother had spoken to him like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.
You can’t always rely on your fists, she would say. Sometimes, words are all you need. They can change lives, even save lives. They can be the difference between a happy life and a miserable one. Remember that.
Yeah, well, she failed to see it wasn’t hurting people he was after, but pushing himself beyond his limits. To prove to himself that he could. To feel the limits of his body, and surpass them.
To feel alive.
“Your father wanted the best for you,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Ethan gave his mother a sad smile. He talked with his mother a little bit after, but eventually, he excused himself.
She hugged him before he left. A tight, almost desperate squeeze that seemed to drag out for longer than it really did. Ethan wasn’t entirely sure how to respond and wasn’t able to think of anything better than giving her a couple of awkward pats on the back.
Then, when somewhere nice, he lit a cigarette. Stupid, useless, and unhealthy, but he had to do something to let off steam or his entire body was going to burst apart like a firecracker.
When it was nearly time for the cigarette to burn itself out, he suddenly got engulfed in bright light. He didn’t think, nor could he; it was just way too fast.
The last thought he had was something along the lines of ‘the fuck?’ before he crashed face-first into space-time itself.
-3-
Ethan slammed his head against the plush velvet pillow, groaning. Post-reincarnation—transmigration?—headaches were a real pain, especially when you woke up in the body of a drunken wastrel named Theodore Lockheart, the most indebted, despised, fucked up noble in the entire bordertowns—lands that were on the border of the world of the living; lands that were under the constant threat of the dead.
He was tired, irritable, and he had a headache so annoying it was almost as if his skull was split open. Not to mention, his nose was throbbing in pain from what he could only guess had been a one-sided beatdown.
Had the Baron gotten beaten to a pulp somehow?
It was possible, after all, Ethan did remember snippets of Theodore’s recent memories—nothing more than that, though. Theodore tended to suit up as a rich merchant. And he’d likely gone to the bar after losing his fortune earlier in the night, and then had likely fucked a wench or two, vented on the poor women, gotten punched and kicked out.
Groaning, Ethan peeled himself out of bed and forced himself to move. He had things he wanted to do today, like sit somewhere nice and contemplate the meaning of existence—or smoke cigarettes. But sadly, he had none, and he despised alcohol.
Strange, Theodore—no, Ethan, thought. Why do I so easily believe in all this? And why am I so easily accepting that I’m this bastard now?
Though the question was there, Ethan found that it didn’t bring up any emotions. It was like an empty sentence in his thoughts, with nothing behind it.
Ding! System Initiating…
Consciousness transferred...
Subject: Ethan
Social integration protocols activated.
Linguistic database uploaded. Communication in all known languages will be facilitated.
Confirmation: Subject has all their memories upon induction. Check.
Disclaimer: This is not a dream simulation. This is a permanent transfer. Subject has been induced to fully believe this reality, but nothing else inside the subject has been altered.
Confirmation: Memories and core identity remain unaltered.
Warning: The subject will perceive everything as real.
Directive: Enjoy the New World. Second chance protocols initiated.
The System has awoken within you. [Nur] is a world unimaginable power awaits. You, Ethan, have the chance to become extraordinary.
A [Quest] approaches!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Magic Sensitivity]!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Magic Perception]!
Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Myriad Tongue]!
Ding! Please brace for loss of consciousness!
“What in the god-fucking-damned hell—?” Ethan muttered, then fell unconscious. When Ethan woke up again, a screen flashed in front of him.
Please select your preferred Class...
The screen, Ethan found, didn’t elicit any reaction out of him. It wasn’t shocking, nor unbelievable, it was just as if it was a universal truth he’d come to believe since childhood. Like a phone’s existence, or the internet, perhaps. The fact that he thought that way made him sigh. He just hoped anything else inside him hadn’t been changed.
Ethan looked through the page that appeared in front of him.
[Warrior (Common)]
Function: Frontline combatant
Prerequisite: None
Description: A Common-Ranked Class. Grants basic proficiency with all melee weapon types (sword, spear, ax, etc.)
Specialization Paths: Available after further training and/or meeting certain requirements: [Barbarian], [Knight], [Paladin], [Cavalryman], [Mercenary] (and more)
[Archer (Common)]
Function: Ranged Damage Dealer
Prerequisite: None
Description: Basic proficiency with bows and arrows.
Specialization Paths:
Adjacent: Unlockable after further training: [Thief], [Assassin] (and more)
Advanced: Upon reaching specific requirements: [Spirit Archer], [Magic Archer] (and more)
[Mage (Common)]
Function: Ranged Magic User
Prerequisite: None
Description: Basic application of magical abilities.
Specialization Paths: Unlockable after further study: [Warlock], [Alchemist], [Summoner] (and more)
[Healer (Common)]
Function: Support - Restoration and Enhancement
Prerequisite: A [Faith].
Description: Devoted healer, blessed with divine magic, requires [Faith] in a deity. A healer’s heart heals the spirit of ailing beings, providing great spiritual buffs. Can heal wounds and ailments of allies. Can enhance allied attributes and resistances.
Specialization Paths: Unlockable after advanced training (may vary by race or deity): [Temple Priest], [Battle Medic], [Nature Mender] (and more)
After looking through the available Classes, it didn’t take long for Ethan to immediately dismiss both the [Healer] and [Warrior]. [Healer] would be too weak unless he got to its Specialization Paths—not to mention he’d need to have faith in some god, which he did not—and [Warrior] meant he’d need to be close range all the time. Ethan didn’t like risk, thus that idea went to waste as fast as a blade through butter. That left him with two options, and a more or less clear idea of which choice to make.
[Archer] was dismissed for the sole reason that it didn’t appeal to him much, although he was indeed curious as to why it had [Thief] and [Assassin] as its Adjacent Specialization Paths. Regardless, there was only one choice left: Mage—something he’d have chosen anyway given that the system had given him [Magic Sensitivity] and [Magic Perception], although he’d yet to test those skills out. They seemed passive anyway.
Ethan selected his chosen Class.
Congratulations! You are now an [Unranked Mage].
You are capable of casting minor, beginner-level magics.
You can use magical implements and perform incantations with limited versatility.
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Basic Magic Script]!
Congratulations! You have gained skill: [Elemental Spells]!
Due to your [Magic Perception] and [Magic Sensitivity], the effectiveness of magical spells and skills are now increased by 10%!
“That’s it?” Ethan blinked. “I would’ve expected, I don’t know, for my entire body to feel on fire, or something.”
Not that he ever had that happen in his life. Fiction really put false expectations into his mind.
Theodore Lockheart
[Race: Human]⨽[Rank: G]⨽[Level: 0]
[Class: Mage]⨽[Rank: Unranked]⨽[Level: 0]
[Skills]: Basic Magic Script (Lvl. 1), Elemental Spells (Lvl. 1), Magic Sensitivity (Lvl. 1), Magic Perception (Lvl. 1), Myriad Tongue (Lvl. 1)
[Titles: None]
Ethan sifted through the skills to better understand what he could do now.
Basic Magic Script – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: This skill allows you to understand and write basic magical notation of the world. Connection Effect: [Basic Magic Script] has established a Connection with one of your existing skills [Magic Perception], essentially giving you the ability to not only comprehend simple spells but also create the runes required to cast them. However, complex and advanced theories will likely be beyond your grasp at this level.
Elemental Spells – Level 1
Type: Active
Effect: You can cast basic elemental spells. At this level, your spells are limited in power and complexity.
Magic Sensitivity – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You possess a heightened awareness of magical energies in your immediate surroundings. You can feel faint tingles or experience subtle temperature changes when magic is being used nearby. This ability helps you identify areas with magical activity or sense the presence of magic. However, pinpointing the exact source or nature of the magic might be difficult at this level.
Magic Perception – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You can see the underlying runes whenever a spell is cast in front of you. However, deciphering complex spells to view their runes will likely be blurry or misleading at this level. Connection Effect: [Magic Perception] has established a Connection with one of your existing skills, [Basic Magic Script], essentially giving you the ability to not only comprehend simple spells but also create the runes required to cast them. However, complex and advanced theories will likely be beyond your grasp at this level.
Myriad Tongue – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: You can understand and speak all the languages of this world. This skill allows you to communicate with most of the species you encounter. Complex conversations will likely require further development of this skill. Connection Effect: [Myriad Tongue] has established a Connection with [Basic Magic Script], essentially giving you an inherent understanding of the runic language of magic.
Holy... So, this world’s really like a game, huh? There are no stats, though. Why? Ethan rubbed his chin. The skills were nice. Ethan was excited to test his skills out when someone knocked once on the door and entered. “My lord,” said the man Ethan quickly recognized as one of his advisors, Cedric, “I’ve received notice that the duke’s men have begun their journey from the Capital.” He bowed. “They’re coming to collect tax.”
Saying so, Cedric left Ethan to ponder.
Tax? What?
In this world of swords and spells, tax consisted of the rarest of monster parts and materials. Priceless Relics were found in the Deadlands just out the border—lands that were full of dangers of the highest caliber, along with endless rewards. And because these materials and items were all of a higher value, not paying tax could easily put a small town like this into debt, unless the town managed to somehow attract a wealthy and profitable industry or find themselves a noble willing to spend his coin to help their people.
Such a noble couldn’t be Theo, clearly. After all, he was just a run-of-the-mill spoiled brat from a prominent aristocratic family—the typical wastrel born lucky into money and power without ever needing to work a single day in his entire life.
Regardless, the tax was Ethan’s issue now, and he wasn’t ready to deal with it given that Theo already had quite a debt in the first place.
Ethan’s eyes deadened.
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Hello, I’m a 32 year old female with no significant past medical history. Never smoked/did drugs, not currently drinking, sexually active, 200 lbs and working on healthy weight loss after years of yo-going. I’m a new nurse, working in inpatient oncology - so I have a healthy dose of health anxiety.
Been suffering with left ear fullness (no pain, random onset) since mid February. ENT just looked into my ear, said it was normal, chalked it up to Eustachian tube dysfunction and told me I had to live with it/“it might go away but no promises”.
Allergist recently diagnosed me with silent reflux and has me on a PPI, diet changes, elevated sleeping - initially this helped 80% of the way. I notice if I eat anything dairy/especially full fat dairy, it temporarily gets a lot worse. He also is treating my normal allergies/post nasal drip. Allergies are totally managed now. Last time I saw him he suggested debrox to clean my ears (even though they’re completely clear). The debrox made it worse.
New GI has a tentative diagnosis of dyspepsia and slow stomach motility for me and is doing the full work up - but I forgot to mention the ear fullness to him.
At first I thought it was allergies (allergist says no, because it’s not bilateral), then I thought it was intracranial pressure (eye doc and retina specialist say I’m fine), then I thought it was reflux related - which, since starting treatment for reflux in the beginning of April, has made a nice improvement but not a full resolution. Now I’m wondering if it’s a straight up dairy intolerance?
I’m thinking of seeing another ent for a second opinion.
I just hate this feeling! It’s a full feeling, mild pressure, with some pulsatile qualities when I’m physically exerting myself. If I close my mouth and hum really loud/hard/steady in a quiet room I can hear my heart beat. Even when I feel fine, I check to see if I can hear the heart beat - and it’s always there :(
All GI/reflux issues have drastically improved/nearly resolved - but symptoms presented like asthma (which is why I saw the allergist).
I don’t know what to do!!!!!!!!!

Chess a bad man when he focused and not throwing up

I’m a new grad nurse and next week is my last week on orientation. The unit I’m working in is a stepdown ICU unit. We take everything except sedation or pressors. We have insulin gtt, cardizem gtt, heparin gtt, vents, trach, etc. Nurses will get 4 patients even if they are on drips. HOWEVER, if you have a vent patient, you are only assigned to 3 patients and that’s only for vents. I feel overwhelmed even with 4 stable patients. I’ve only had 8 weeks of orientation and I still don’t feel like I’m ready because I’ve only had like 2 trach patients during my 8 weeks, 1 insulin drip patients. Some of the patients on our floor are very very sick and should belong in the ICU. During my entire 8 weeks, I’ve only had probably like 5 shifts with the entire 4 patients. All the other shifts, I’ve only had 3 because they got discharged mid shift, an admission came in towards the end of the shift, so I never really got to experience the full 4 in the entire 12 hours. I have a fear of putting my license at risk because I feel like I cannot fully give all 4 of my patients the best care since I’m so busy. Is it normal to feel this way as a new grad? I talked to my manger about this issue and she said that she will put me on night shifts since it’s more chill and I won’t be as stressful. Any tips?

For context I am a 25 year old musician and I have been struggling with this chronic throat pain since 2022. It would come and go but recently it got much worse this year during early March. It really gets increasingly worse when I speak and use my voice which is super frustrating. It feels like my throat is super raw with razor blades and it’s mostly on the left side.
In 2022 an ENT said I had some acid reflux and put me on omeprezal for a few months which did nothing. I got off of it and the issue just kind of went up and down and I tried my best to power through and habituate to it until it either went away or didn’t bother me anymore.
More recently because of the severity increase I got a scope done and they said I had moderate reflux and stiff vocal cords. I did voice therapy and decided to change my entire life style.

• Exercise regularly
• Don’t eat 3 hours before bed
• Smaller meals
• literally the most basic bland diet that in theory should have no GERD triggers
• sleeping elevated
• 20 mg famotidine morning and evening
• and more
• recently salt water rinse (might be helping? Placebo? Idk)

About almost two months I got re scoped and my vocal cords are moving MUCH better now but the reflux side of things were pretty much consistent as they were during the first scope. I was recommended to see a GI doctor who I saw last week and this is our current plan.
No one is entirely sure if this pain I have been having is “GERD” related so the GI decided trying a new PPI (Nexium) and hitting it hard (large dose) only for about a month or so and seeing if there is any improvement followed by an endoscopy (still use the famotidine too). If there is no improvement then we will wean off of the meds. I also have a barium swallow scheduled to rule out any weird abnormalities there.
I wanted to know what anyone’s opinions are on this course of action. Ever since a neurological event last year that was really tough, I’ve been trying to be much more holistic with medications after doctors were throwing pills at me left and right without properly diagnosing me. I wouldn’t be even considering the PPI if I wasn’t desperate.
Another angle that I think could be important to mention is that I have heavily allergies to dogs, cats, and dust which I live with constantly. I was doing research and seeing how PND (Post nasal drip) can contribute to a chronic sore/painful throat as well. I also tend to be a mouth breather at night which could certainly be drying out everything harshly. However the scopes showed I DID have moderate reflux symptoms (not necessarily on my specific area of pain because it’s too deep). Possibly a combination of all three?
I’m a little nervous to try this next approach. In concept it makes sense but I’m nervous about taking a high dose of this new pill, rebound gerd, side effects, and more. I’m desperate and just went to get to the bottom of this thing and figure out how to fix it. I would appreciate any advice. Thanks ❤️

As the title.
It seems like on 2.5 I’d just inject and nothing would come out, no drop of blood, no transparent liquid, etc.
Maybe cause I had more fat (210 lbs).
Now on 7.5 - 12.5 (now at 165 lbs) I’ll inject, and need to dab the blood drop coming out, which is also accompanied by a small streak of transparent liquid dripping.
Is it because the higher doses have more liquid in them, or is it because my weight is less?
Or am I pressing too hard on my side, so the rebound pushes out some of the Mounjaro?

Hello I just got back from a short vacation to my kanna package here. I got 1g of the IX, 1g of the TA16 and one of the 3x spray bottles from HH.
The IX is great, nice low strength extract, powdery and usable.
The spray seems nice but I cannot get it to work intranasally, every time I try I just get it all over the outside of my nostril or just barely in and it drips out. Idk, I'll work on that I guess.
Now the real question of this post, the TA16 upon first opening is completely caked solid. It mushes down but doesn't really want to break up. I tried a small amount on a hot ceramic plate and that hardened it but it was still sticky and wouldn't break into powder, it also completely changed the color and looked burnt or something. Also almost half the amount I used melted to the plate and couldn't be retrieved even with scraping.
The TA16 is also a weird brownish/orange color, I've not seen any other extracts this dark and it doesn't look at all like this on the website. All in all I'm worried something has happened to it. Even if that's not the case it's entirely unusable for me in its current form and this is pretty upsetting, it was what I had highest hopes for from HH.
If anyone has found any good solutions to this I'd really appreciate it, I don't have a lot of disposable funds right now and would hate to have to throw this out. Using sublingual just does not work for me how I want as much as I've tried and oral dosing makes me nauseous. Thanks in advance!

TL;DR: accidentally misfired injection dose of T, need advice for how to cope w/ low T
So I have been on 50 of SQ T for 1 year, and it has been going fine, but this week I made a mistake. When I tried to inject the T, the needle wasn’t screwed on all the way and I heard a gurgling sound and saw some dripping at the hub.
Considering my dose is 1/4 of a single use vial that I have to treat like a multi dose vial, I already have to pull slightly less from the container in order to have 4 equal doses. I cannot get more as my pharmacy/insurance gives me issues w/ refills when it’s due since it’s considered a controlled substance in my country.
I don’t mind injecting myself, in fact I like the weekly shots, but if I don’t get enough that week (like this week) I get really depressed and emotional. I work in a high stress environment that is already mentally draining for 12 hour shifts. I’d rather not be dealing w/ mood swings on top of it.
Does anyone else have any advice or been in a similar situation to this? I’d really appreciate some input

TL;DR— Nasacort and Singulair have changed my life for the better. Thanks to this thread for those recommendations!
I just wanted to share here (since this thread has been so helpful to me) that I’ve recently found significant relief in starting two new meds— one being Nasacort, a simple OTC spray, the other being Singulair (Montelukast), a Rx drug that I was hesitant to take for years due to its Black label warning from the FDA, but which has helped me tremendously.
Y’all shared in these threads that these medications had changed your life, and I’m so grateful because that gave me the push I needed to try them. I’ve always had pretty bad seasonal allergies, but after having COVID in 2022, my allergies went completely crazy. April through September were a nightmare. I could barely function, had terrible brain fog, debilitating symptoms, had trouble working, couldn’t go outside, began experiencing allergic asthma… the whole works. Hay fever all day every day. I had sinus infections that led to terrible bronchitis. I was living on multiple Zyrtec a day (which honestly didn’t touch my symptoms), Sudafed during the day, Benadryl at night, Flonase, Ipaproprium Bromide spray and a host of supplements (Quercetin, vitamin c, stinging nettle, et.al) I tried EVERYTHING. (And I mean everything— diet, breath work, acupuncture, Ayurvedic treatments, the lot.) The majority of “alternative” / natural remedies have helped a little, but they’re more an extra support for my symptoms… they really didn’t do a whole lot for me.
Someone on here recommended Nasacort. And while it took a few weeks to kick in, when it did, a TOTAL game changer. I am free of chronic postnasal drip for maybe the first time in years?! I cannot believe it. If you haven’t tried Nasacort yet, I highly recommend it. No negative side effects. Safe for longer term use.
Upon searching these threads for how to deal with allergic asthma, I read more about Singulair. I’d always been nervous to take it because it can have bad psychological side effects, but it was nearly my last resort. My allergist told me that some folks have bad side effects, but the majority of people tolerate it well. I’m thrilled to say it’s working SO well for me. (Full disclosure: I also take Wellbutrin, an antidepressant). Singulair makes you a little sleepy, so it’s recommended you take it at night. It can give you very vivid dreams, and in my case, that’s been true. Other than that, zero side effects. My dreams are weirdly way more fun now, lol. Singulair has eliminated my allergic asthma— I can now exercise outside now during allergy season and not have to spend the next day in bed. Hallelujah!
Anyways, as a lifelong allergy sufferer / long Covid allergy mystery, I just wanted to share that these meds have helped me tremendously and I hope everyone can get what they need this allergy season!
Extra disclosure— I am very early in this journey, so no way to tell yet how much it’s helping, but I’m doing allergy immunotherapy with my allergist. I started with shots, but started reacting with major swelling at a very low dosage of the subcutaneous injection, so he has switched me to SLIT— sublingual drops. They’re European dosing guidelines, so very high quality and a high concentration serum. I’m only one month in, so I can’t say decisively how much they’re helping yet because it’s a 5 year process, but I’m hopeful my full court press against my seasonal allergies does the trick.

I’m a new grad and next week is my last week on orientation and it’s freaking me out. I’m on a stepdown ICU floor and we get 4 patients. Some of these patients are really sick, some are on insulin drip where we have to do q1 glucose checks, and some are on cardizem drip, some are trach patients. We still get 4 patients even if they are on drips. I have been struggling with time management, especially if it’s the first night working with new patients. I spend around 45 minutes to an hour on each patient during their initial head-to-toe assessments because I like to be through. And most of their mediations are due when I do their assessments. I would start my assessments around 7:30-8 and finish my last patient around 10-11. And I am struggling. I’ve watched other nurses do assessments and they do it so quick like how?? Also I like to chart while I’m doing their assessments because I will forget about specific details if I don’t chart while doing it. Is this normal with new grads and any tips?

I woke up to the soft hum of the city filtering through my bedroom window, the first light of dawn casting a gentle glow over my room. I rubbed my eyes, feeling the remnants of sleep slipping away. As I stretched and yawned, a strange sensation washed over me, like an invisible veil being lifted from my mind. I shrugged it off as morning grogginess and stumbled to the kitchen for my usual dose of caffeine.
As I brewed my coffee, my neighbor Mrs. Rodriguez’s voice echoed in my head, "I hope he stops his noisy workouts so early. Some of us like to sleep in." I froze, coffee pot in hand, staring at the wall separating our apartments. I hadn't heard her speak out loud. In fact, I hadn't heard anything but the steady drip of the coffee maker. My heart raced. Was I hearing her thoughts?
I shook my head, trying to dispel the absurdity. As I poured my coffee, I heard another voice, this time my own, musing about how absurd it all was. My mind spun. Could I really be reading minds? I decided to test it out. I grabbed my phone and texted my best friend, Mia, asking if she wanted to meet for breakfast.
As I walked to the café, the city felt different, alive with an undercurrent of silent conversations. I heard snippets of thoughts as people passed by, random musings, worries, and joys. It was overwhelming and fascinating. I focused on breathing, trying to filter out the noise. When I arrived, Mia was already at a table, her fingers tapping on her phone. As I approached, I heard her thinking about what to order, debating between pancakes and an omelet.
"Go for the pancakes," I said, sliding into the seat across from her. She looked up, surprised.
"How did you know?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
"Lucky guess," I replied, though I couldn't hide my grin.
Throughout breakfast, I practiced tuning into Mia’s thoughts. I could hear her thinking about her upcoming presentation at work and wondering if her outfit looked okay. The experience was surreal. It was like watching a movie with subtitles, except the subtitles were people’s innermost thoughts. I had to tell Mia, but how would she react? I decided to give her a demonstration instead.
"Can you keep a secret?" I asked, leaning in. She nodded, curiosity piqued. "I think I can read minds."
She laughed, but I could see a flicker of doubt in her eyes. "Prove it."
I concentrated, picking up on her thoughts. "You're worried about the presentation for the new marketing campaign and think your blue dress would have been a better choice this morning."
Her eyes widened, fork clattering to her plate. "How did you...?"
"I don’t know," I admitted. "I just woke up with this ability."
We spent the next hour testing my new skill. Mia thought of numbers, images, random facts, and I repeated them back to her accurately. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. What could I do with this power? What should I do?
As I walked home, I pondered the implications. I could help people, understand them better, maybe even predict and prevent conflicts. But there was a darker side, too. The potential for invasion of privacy, manipulation, the ethical dilemmas were staggering.
My phone buzzed, jolting me from my thoughts. It was a message from my boss, asking if I could come in for an impromptu meeting. As I entered the office building, I couldn’t help but listen to the thoughts around me. Stress, ambition, secrets—it was all laid bare.
My boss greeted me with a firm handshake, his thoughts surprisingly mundane: a grocery list for dinner, a mental note to pick up his dry cleaning. But as we sat down to discuss my latest project, I heard a darker thread—he was planning to cut my department’s budget significantly.
My mind raced. How could I use this information? Should I confront him? No, that would be too obvious. Instead, I steered the conversation towards the importance of our work, highlighting successes and future plans. By the end of the meeting, I had subtly changed his mind, buying my team more time.
That evening, as I reflected on the day, the weight of my new ability settled on me. The potential for good was immense, but so was the risk of harm. I knew I had to be careful, to use this gift wisely. I would start by helping those closest to me, like Mia, and see where this strange journey would lead.
In the days that followed, I found myself in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, navigating the complexities of human minds. I became a confidant, a secret keeper, a silent guardian. And through it all, I discovered that the greatest challenge wasn't hearing people's thoughts—it was choosing which ones to act upon, and which ones to let go.

I ordered pills from WoW and ordered again from WhW for back up, I receive a package from wow and will wait for the another one and this is my journey:
May 18 (10:00am) - Took one mife (5 weeks and 3 days pregnant)
May 19 (10:30am) -Took an advil (5 weeks and 4 days pregnant)
May 19 (11:30 am) - Already put 4 miso under my tongue as stated in the instruction from WoW for 30 mins and spit the remain tabs.
within less than an hour my body temperature increases, i don’t know if I feel cold and hot at the same time. I ran into the restroom because I really don’t know if I had to vomit or had to release something inside me. Within a few minutes sitting in the toilet, cramps were getting worst and blood were already dropping on my vaggy. I saw a lot of big and small clumps of blood clot within the first dose but clearly cant see any shape of what 5 weeks and 5 day fetus looks like.
I stay a bit more in the toilet as the blood bursts when coming out, also some stringy clots were seen hanging on my private part. As the blood slowly drops i had to take a nap for a bit.
I also felt my under tongue and sore throats get thicker (parang nangangapal) but read some subreddits that it is clearly normal
May 19 (2:30pm) - wake up from a nap (still having cramps) and put two pieces of Miso under my tongue for 30 go ko mins but didn’t dissolve like the first one. Not sure if it is ok but still proceed on doing what’s in the instruction that after 30 mins is you have to spit the remaining pills.
Stronger cramps were felt together with the lower back. I can’t even explain if i’m felling hot or not. I also stay in a bathroom for long so I can just let the blood drip down on the toilet.
also took an advil after an hour
May 19 (10:55pm) still having cramps and blood came out on me.
Is this considered as successful? even if I didn’t see a blood looking fetus?

--⧼ BEGIN Broadcast Message ⧽--
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Priority Level: Urgent
:: From ::
Center Arm of the Emperor, Planet Laran
:: To ::
All Survivors of Fellow Royal Cast Broods
:: Message ::
The Emperor has graciously permitted the use of his Excellency's summer home on Planet Laran, located in the Empire's Center Arm, as a temporary refuge during the unprecedented violent Terran offences against His Holiness and the holiness of the Omni-brood of Ix.
:: Attachments ::
Coordinates and Flight Key
:: Royal Cryptographic Signature ::
Lord La'Ix, The Emperor's Right-Center Arm
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
--⧼ END Broadcast Message ⧽--

earlier

"CURSE THEM! The great houses are going to have my bloody head for this! There is no way this should've happened and under my command too! The Golden Emperor's own exotic holiday world has gone to ash and the only one to blame is going to be me. Well it was basically my watch anyways. Curse. Them. All"
Those were the only legible sounds one could hear among the frantic stamping of one particular Ixian lord as he hurried away through the underbrush of the royal reserve just outside the centre palace. The same Ixian lord that, only hours earlier, was delighting in his typical cooked boar while enjoying his evening's entertainment of a young Terran girl running for her life from a loose Laran tiger. Something about the way those bipeds run always makes him laugh. Some similarly caste Ixian would call this form of entertainment childish, lowbrow, and immature. He would tend to agree. But sometimes he just wanted cheap slapstick humour. The day to day life of the royal caste tends to get dull with all the fine arts an Ixian of his caste is meant to enjoy.
"How did it all go to shit!?! I was always attentive, and there hasn't been an uprising since those terrans were tamed for the palace. I mean we mostly neuter the problematic ones anyways, so why all the sudden aggression?", he shouted in agitation at the emptiness in front of him.
Speeding through the royal garden which in actuality is a repurposed Savannah of the island the palace is on. The Ixian was a beast of speed. Perfectly honed and trained over decades, and genetically maintained over eons, he always proudly held that he was the fasted in his brood of 16. Making a name for himself among the other broodkin for being the most genetically suited for the rank of high general (not that there was any need for generals, there hasn't been need for war in so long). Of course the Ixians always pride themselves in having no excess potential, and adapting your environment to suit your biology, but it never hurts to have perfect biology. That's the true pride of an Ixian.
That innate need to change the universe rather than changing themselves is what led to their vast interstellar empire. One that reached from constellation to constellation and then eventually to the arms of entire galaxies, terraforming worlds to the same environment they were already adapted to. Since forcing nature into one's bidding was the most sacred duty of any that shared a lick of Ix biology.
Which was why the Ix was confident in themselves. This Ixian in particular surely felt surprised, but mainly he was only moderately upset at the sudden change of situation, from being comfortable in the royal dining hall to sudden exercise.
"Everything can be changed back. Everything can be changed back." It repeated the mantra to itself. As it began to relax and turn its snarled sharp mouth into a toothy grin.
"Yes, there is nothing to worry about at all. Then let's make a game plan. Just need to make it to the space port at the harbour. Grab a ride out and find someone else to take the fall. That old royal butler is as ancient as the dirt of the broodworld. Hell, he probably was there when it vanished in the shadow of the holy empire's long past." chuckling to himself at the quite witty remark, but saddened that no one else was there to hear it.
Should be realistic enough for the others to believe. But first things first, I need to reach the harbour-master. It thought while its dense muscles powered the beastly lizard-like form on its journey, as it bound in the direction of its destination at top speed on all fours.
The blood red sun was already kissing the horizon by the time the Ixian went to nearly collapse under exhaustion of the extended sprint. He hasn't ran this far and fast than when he a young broodling that won competitions and competitions in the royal sports. I think I might have overdid it. He thought while massaging the oncoming threat of a sneaky cramp in his hind leg.
The Ixian were well known for speed. But their stamina was another thing. There bodies simply didn't have the evolved features for long distance travel. There was never truly any need in the past, as their very steady and controlled climate and sparsely diverse ecosystem on Ix never truly required much challenge.
It turned its panting head to face the way it came, gazing proudly at the great distance it made in such a short while.
But something was off by that view. Something different to what he was expecting. The view itself was mostly fine. Well, as fine as a smoking mark in the distance, presumably from the summer palace being engulfed in flame and spitting great plumes of black smoke. But no, something about this view chilled him to this spine. Craning his neck from his vantage point he could swear there was a small speck in the distance.
What on great Ix is that?
All of a sudden realisation hit like a rock on a peaceful pond. Something was following him. Something unknown and cold was making its way to his location. He was certain it wasn't any of his guards, all guards permitted to serve under the royal summer home were Ixian of course. Physically bred for their strength and speed, and placed into roles of importance like protecting the higher caste such as himself. (Whereas this day being the only exception). It did look like he was the only Ixian that actually made it out of the palace so far. Ixians are able to cover short distances in phenomenal speed, akin to a scaly 4 legged beast of the hunt.
No this was something else.
Feeling a very small panic build up inside, but veiling that cold, unwanted terror as impatience at how far he still needs to travel yet. Lord La'Ix flexed his anterior legs and sped on leaving behind a red-yellow cloud of dust in his wake.
He frowned. Feeling strange at a never before felt sensation. Like something in the back of his perfectly designed brain was screaming a silent, but terrifyingly familiar warning.
"Ix itself is an ancient world. Temperate in climate, while abundant in vegetation and small game. It is unknown how the Ixian was formed on paradise.
The old priest can drum into your heads that I'Ix made us into being by indenting his form in the sand of the first beach and filling the shape with his life. Moulding us into being.
The heretic would counter and say we evolved from a previous species akin to ourselves over the course of untold lengths of time.
The philosopher would suggest that only on paradise would the sentient universe fill in the space for the perfect beings to enjoy the fruits of existence.
Lastly, even the lowest caste Ixian would point and laugh at the rest and say 'why talk about antiquity, when we can make more paradise to fill the heavens'."
-A popular Ixian parable
Lord La'Ix bolted up all of a sudden from his resting spot. Heart suddenly beating frantically. The stars had barely enough time to shift positions when last rested his weary body, only a couple hours must have passed since dusk fell and the world plunged into night.
The silence of the Savannah made sound from afar travel better. Aside from the quiet rustling of the wind he wasn't so sure what he heard. Assuming his bored ears were playing tricks on him.
Calming down, curling up on the flat cool rock he found he started to drift to the shadowless lands where all Ixian go when they dream...
Drums, no, not drums. Some sort of mechanical tool? Not that I ever heard of a tool that just beat the ground senseless. A strange beating sound could be heard, pounding into the ground. As he stayed frozen and very awake, he could have sworn it was getting louder. Closer.
CRACK. SNAP. CRACK.
Suddenly the entire valley echoed the sounds of a few broken sticks.
La'Ix jumped up, whirling around, and came to face something approaching fast that could only be described as a cold predator, not that there were any predators on the homeworld's recorded history. But every cell in his aching body reacted the same. DANGER, DANGER, RUN, RUN.
The silver light of the planet's 3 moons barely lit the valley but what that light bounced off of was a figure in motion. Front Legs pumping up and down, nostrils flaring, eyes too close together, and pupils so large it was like staring at darkness itself.
Hold on there are only 2 legs right? Sudden familiarity hit him hard, memories of last night's entertainment stained his mind. In the name of Ix is that a Terran?!?
La'Ix didn't realise it then, but it was looking at a Terran, despite the Terrans characteristics looking different to the standard slave he was used to seeing. The pumping body of the runner was made for such long distances. Sweat acting as a cooling mechanism, making the man glisten in the harsh moonlight, the enlarged nostrils taking in all the air the body needs for this type of strenuous activity. And the enlarged pupils, made for adjusting to low light environments.
Down on the plains of the Savannah were two creatures. One a perfect evolutionary miracle, practically evolution's first try gone right, Perfectly made for its environment and was never truly exposed to varying climates and environments. And the other, having crawled through the primordial ooze, and struggled and fought its way through dangers, diseases, and competition on its own horrifying world. Where deadly heat in deserts can dry out any living thing, and such freezing poles that can turn anything that enters it in pure ice.
The man's lean and sweat-slicken form was steadily making its way towards the frozen statue of La'Ix. Just as he got within 50 paces did La'Ix sprint away scattering pebbles in its path the echoes of which bounced back from the valley's sharp walls. Undeterred, the chaser kept steadily running. Jaws grit. Eyes locked on afar.
And afar was its prey. Sprinting away.
HOW IN IX'S NAME DID THAT THING KNOW WHERE I AM? The La'Ix in a fit of sudden excitement mixed with a heavy dose of panic, began its high octane sprint from the sudden looming threat of being found. Hind Legs propelling the creature's body forward, while its front arms, which were historically also for four legged locomotion, pulled the terrain closer with each stride. Increasing its momentum until it reached max speed.
"Broodling La'Ix!" said a stern but educated voice.
"Huh? Oh! Yessir!" a young Ix jumped to attention still thinking about more enjoyable things specifically outside of the classroom walls.
"Well? Can you please answer my question or will you make your other broodkin wait until Ix falls to ash first", the tutor said expectantly, prompting several muffles giggles in the room.
"Sorry sir. What makes the Ixian race its place in eternity is the attention we put in perfection. After our home-world of Ix's climate and terrain began to change, the leaders from antiquity decreed we carry on the spirit of the home-world in maintaining a consistent biological and genetic profile that will always be suited to Ix's surface. As we change worlds to be more like Ix, we can spread the spirit of Ix to them. As such, Change is- uh, change is..."
"Change is the poison of perfection, Remaining unchanged for Ix enable us to carry its spirit to other planets in the heavens", continued the tutor. "Well you certainly paid some attention to today's lesson at the very least. But remember that final part. It's the last of the core tenants you will need to remember."
"Yessir!"
A good half night passed on the surface of the Savanna. Where a previously noble and alert Ixian who took great care in appearances and status was no longer to be seen. Instead of that proud domineering alien representative of ix was a dishevelled, dusty, ragged creature, dehydrated, hungry, and exhausted from the various sprints it forced itself to endure to stay ahead of fate's ever closing hand.
Is this the sword of Damocles that was mentioned in the ancient Terran records? Always hanging down on those who hold power and seek more? Fate's sharp blade? But why me? I was never in any real power. All I wanted out of this life was a comfortable posting with no dirt and grime from the lower worlds. Why me? Why now? Why do I-
La'Ix snapped himself out of a daze. Is he here- No, no I should be far far away from that Terran now. Maybe I can find some-
A dim glow interrupted its train of thought. Much too early to be the Sunrise on the Emperor's summer planet, and much to low to be the light from one of it's 2 moons. It was a light from a town.
"That's right!" The Ixian barely managed to rasp in between haggard breaths. Its body barely able to continue the amount of self inflicted abuse it has suddenly been put in.
A lot more hunched over than the Ixian was earlier. It made its way towards a small town it knew was in between the palace and the harbour. The emperor loved his royal rustic towns and villages. It is said that his royal emperor would sometimes tour around them marvelling at the romantic theme of a simple rustic life. Although getting a personal town full of Ixians required a lot of lower caste be forced into long and expensive work contracts as background entertainers for the king's planet, all this excessive show of wealth was partially for peackocking the emperor's reputation, and partially for his own personal enjoyment. The Emperor is almost culturally required to flaunt his royal wealth in all forms in order to keep connections with all the royal houses. An emperor that doesn't shower their supporting aides and houses with grand gifts is fated to eventually be found cold on the floor of the royal banquet due to 'suicide from accidentally ingesting poison', as was the previous emperor.
To avoid such an unfortunate passing, the Higher Royals would trade vast resources, delicacies, and even exotic slaves to court 'royal favours'. Slaves of the Terran variety especially are considered to be the most unique of gifts the empire has ever acquired.
Terrans weren't necessarily large and bulky. Fighters were assigned to the Slave Obniraks. Powerful creatures used to fill the fields on tougher worlds where mechanical services would be deemed to expensive. The growth of a Obnirak into full working adulthood is only a few cycles. Meaning mass producing a workforce is quite an easy feat.
Terrans instead would take vast cycles to mature from a childling to an average adult. Meaning growing a slave force would take vast quantities of resources, immense patience, and strict guidance from their owners as to not create faulty creatures. All of which increases the general standing on any house that manages to keep a vast amount of Terran slaves in the best quality.
Terrans weren't necessarily docile and obedient. That role was perhaps given to the oldest slave race the Ix ever controlled. The Iralisa. It was known that they were made remarkably docile due to generations upon generations of select breeding, and pruning off the 'aggressive traits' from the gene pool. However, that led to the adverse effect of physically weakening them to a point where such docility and lack of a frame to keep up with their workload led to a general lack of Ixian interest and were subsequently purified.
Terrans are notoriously independent and herd-minded in larger quantities. Similar to growing a very stubborn Terulian Rose Vine. Which only looks impressive when great care have been given. Terrans need to be given an illusion of being ever so slightly free. Which typically involves owning vast amounts of land and nature to let them roam and graze. Of course, the only ones that can accommodate grand work forces of Terrans are the larger houses with the appropriate territory for humans, as is studied in the Ixian art of Servitude.
One can only guess which species is the Emperor's favourite.
The following town should indeed have both, low caste Ixians, and possibly none of the Emperor's favourite slaves.
The Ixian approached the glowing town. As it reached closer it straightened its back, upright on its hindlegs in the royal fashion. And proclaimed. "It is I! La'Ix, royal courtier. Lend me aid imme-"
Something is off. Not a single shadow in the town, I can see lights but no movement, where is every-
After turning the corner to the center of the small town, the dustied and weary creature froze in its tracks when it saw it. A pit nearly as wide as an Ixian land cruiser and who knows how deep filled with a stench so powerful it watered his eyes. Despite the Ixian's lack of a proper sense of smell. It knew the foul fetor of death.
The crudely dug pit was nearly overflowing when he approached it. Large, smoking, smouldering pyres cast that eerie light that had drawn him in.
"H-how? Wha-What the..." he trailed off when a local species of Laran boar growled and squealed as it tore a dead Ixian limb from the mountain of corpses.
"Who could've..."
He stopped. The shock of seeing his own kind laid like broken dolls in a bleeding pit slowly faded, replaced by a numbness. The Ixian had just noticed they were of Ix. Only of Ix.
Not a single terran colour was visible in the black and spotted pit of bodies. Not a single slave body was visible.
I-Impossible...
His legs gave way, either from the strain of the entire nights run, the horror facing him, or the threat from behind. He just dropped.
Minutes passed, or hours. It was hard to tell. But the Ixian lay slumped. Body unwilling to move further. Battered flesh unwilling to be propelled by a shattered spirit.
Mind slowly spinning up again. Thoughts began whirring to life in its mind. Could the rumours actually have been true? It had read the sparse reports of odd activity from certain Ixian-controlled worlds on the outer arms of the empire. Small uprisings of unknown origin. Hardly anything of note. If it had no affect on the greater houses then it was of no real concern to Ix and its emperor.
Could this threat have made its way to the centre arm already? Impossible. But what else could have done this to us?
Something caught the Ixian's eyes. In the middle of the pit it stood. A large stake, wet with deep Ixian crimson, dripping ever so slowly. Towering over the pit like a battlefield flag was a head of an Ixian rammed onto the tip of the spike. But the particular detail that caught the Ixian's eyes was a symbol cut into the flesh of the large forehead.
Looking from the outward-in. Eight concentric rings, which proceeded to get smaller and smaller in size until it reached a dark mass at the centre of the symbol. The Ixian never forgot the symbol and the affect it had on it.
Eight concentric rings, and a centre mass. Eight rings, and a mass. Eight- Eight what? Eight planets? And a star? ...
A growing pool of cold dread rose in its guts that made it shiver despite the fair night. This dread reflected the sharp reality on its frigid surface.
This Ixian was well-bred, well-trained, and well-educated. Although anyone with a basic education would know of such a pattern.
Terra and her sisters. THEIR star system...
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
It's not possible!-
Knowing what that sound meant, the Ixian tried to whirl around, its body barely being able to heed its masters commands. Just when it was starting to move again it felt it.
Sudden sharp agony. Sudden sharp, raging agony. The Ixian looked at it's hind leg. A sharpened wooden stake was jutting out of it.
It loud out a tight lipped scream, as it grasped the pulsating wound as one does immediately after an injury. It barely had enough time to look up at its attacker when the Terran bolted forward, shortening the distance between hunter and prey from metres to mere paces. The Ixian barely had enough time to block the hand grasping the knife as the arm flew forward at the last minute with a crash.
What phenomenal force!
Using the momentum from that sprint plus the wind up of his arm. The Terran was able to impart a phenomal show of force for a creature its size. That's when La'Ix for the first time saw a human in its raw unchanged form. Great beads of sweat collecting dust on its brow, to prevent it from entering the eyes. The constant release of sweat from the countless pores on its soft fleshy skin. Constant cooling? Even the visible veins and capillaries visible from the fire light.
What a beast of endurance-
Suddenly the horizon fell before the Ixian only to reveal the inky black sky dotted with pigments from stars like a painters masterpiece. When did I look up? Then a crash and blunt force from the ground.
The Ixian had been toppled over by that ferocious exchange of force.
Barely able to get up due to the wind being knocked out of its single large lung, the searing pain in its hind leg, and the exhaustion from the chase. It was too late. The terran was already on top of it. Taking up the entire view of the sky as the terran stepped forward into its field of vision.
The sudden perspective change made a once small and frail looking slave look grander than life, grander than all the legends told to Ixian broodlings.
The punches rained down. Repeatedly. A constant bombardment of beating rained like the drops of rain before the first dew. The previous pain in its leg forgotten, to invite a new visitor in the form of blunt force trauma. So ferocious were the raw blows to its carapace that the Ixian felt the exoskeleton crack under the increasing pressure and strain.
Something cracked, another thing snapped. The amount of pain too much to comprehend. The neurons firing in its second brain just assumed it was everywhere. Its half-working eye glimpsed the fist as it came down for the nth time. Red and split knuckles, revealing pure white bone beneath—a reinforced weapon. The perfect natural offence. All the muscles moved to propel it downwards where something else cracked and split.
Is this where I die?
As if understanding its fate the Ixian's form slumped over. Its body barely holding onto the natural exoskeleton shielding that covered its chest and facial area. Fluids leaking from the cracks that went too deep, and who knows how many internal ribs are shattered.
Its body, knowing that that more movement will cause more injuries, and further stimuli would confuse it further. It simply shut down.
The last moments it had as it fell backwards on its side. Was a small running figure. Hand clutching wooden spears. But the truly petrifying sight was behind it. A vast shadow flickering from the light of the lit pyres from the hunter in front of it. A shadow cast so large, jagged, and menacing it appeared to swallow the town whole.
And into a hole did the Ixian fall. A vacuum with no sensation or thought. Just darkness.
How... did we never notice such a... monster... in their... shadow...
All Ixians were taught about 'violence' and 'conflict' at an early age. As a sort of rite of passage that any of them would go through as they survive their early broodling days. As Ix have no natural predators, they had begun to instil a serving of some necessary conflict to keep their generations fresh and somewhat physically strong. As a precaution, only rudimentary forms of civil sports, races, shows of strength and courage were ever really explored. But always in a controlled and calm settings, as there would never be any true need for actual conflict.
As there was always a need to maintain ones own environment. The need never arose for the development of fighting techniques and schools of training. That was one of the best parts of being an Ix that many thought. Having supreme control over the worlds you inhabit means setting gravity, atmospheric pressure, humidity, and temperatures to the perfect levels for comfort replaced any need for biological change. Why grow when you can keep everything the same way, how you like it.
They were a vast empire. An empire of statues.
-Excerpt from the history of extra-solarian species, Author unknown
It awoke to a burning radiating heat from in front. The large sun was already starting to set on the horizon when it awoke. Had a whole day passed? Or two?
Trying to block the setting sun from its eyes it couldn't. "What?...", barely made out in a whisper.
I'm tied up.
And indeed the Ixian was right. Tied up next to a small brook, with a scorching fire in front of it. The monster nowhere to be seen.
"No good... it's too tight", it grunted in an attempt to escape its bindings.
Going slack in defeat it avoided any additional movement. Not having the energy to spare to move. It was lucky to have always been lazy at shedding its carapace - a frequent nag from its broodmother - might just have become its salvation in this case.
Thank Ix.
So there it stayed.
Hours passed. The Sun fully set and the stars awake in this dark world barely lit up the wildlands. Only the prisoner in this cone of firelight existed out here.
A rustling up ahead caught the prisoner's attention disturbing the eerily still silence of the Savannah night. And ungodly horror of a squeal ruptured the air invoking a deep visceral terror within the bound prisoner. Something. Something close but just outside the firelight was eyeing it, glinting from beyond the light. Those dark predatory eyes stabbed the prisoner with a sudden coldness. All while the squealing suddenly halted. SNAP. SQUELCH.
Now it came, emerging into the light. A beast. Holding a knife in one bloodied hand, dripping on the dirt. And dragging by the leg, a massive adult Laran boar grotesquely smearing thick blood still warm from the cut in the neck on the dirt.
The prisoner watched, barely moving, barely breathing. Frozen with the horror in front of it as the bloodied carcass was skinned; fur sliced away with harsh, scraping sounds with the crude knife. Spurting remaining blood all over the site.
The pink naked flesh then washed in the brook, leaving a distinct smell of oxidised blood in the air, before being skewered and roasted over the roaring flames. Fat popping violently in the heat.
In this gruesome display, the beast revealed not just a fate for the boar, but a dark hint of what might come. The realisation struck deep—this could be more than just a demonstration; it was a terrifying preview of its own potential end.
It passed out again.
Only to be awoken by the haunting echoes of a wild, desperate squeal that once thrummed through the savannah's eerie silence. Dare it open its eyes?
After a great heavy effort -utilizing its every last drop of courage- one eye cracked open. And what it saw. Made it regret ever having done so.
Right across from it, the hunter was a grotesque silhouette against the flickering fire. Grasping a severed boar leg was a mouth viciously biting, ripping, tearing into the flesh with primal ferocity. Each bite was deliberate, each tear of sinew was a clear, calculated demonstration of supreme savagery. Its jaw muscles bulged with the force of a bite.
All the while, the eyes—deep, abyssal pits—fixed intently on the prisoner. Deepest black pits stared back at it. Watching. Observing. Calculating, with a dark intelligence. it was calculating. It was relishing the terror it inspired and the control it exerted. Or planning its next meal.
The sounds of ripping flesh filled the thick, blood-soaked air. Deep into the night. Deep into this never-ending nightmare.
Never once did the prisoner move. Not an iota. Frozen in abject horror.
The night passed quietly. After the feast the human had, or the desecration of life that the prisoner saw, whichever way you look at it. The human nodded off to sleep. Content in the success of his mission. But the tied up creature had no such rest. Sending silent pleas to the stars that it might be saved. But not daring to make a sound, less it awaken that sleeping horror. Or was it sleeping? Dear Ix, it might be watching me. Feigning sleep to keep an eye on its meal. Dear Ix I'm next...
All through the night, the demons plagued its mind. Until the warmth of the morning rose, and with it the sound of an Ixian cruiser.
Elation could not be an understatement for the tired, tied, beat, and bruised thing. Craning its neck to the direction of the sound about to bellow out an Ixian warning to the demon resting next it.
"BE CAREFUL! THERE'S ONE HERE-". It stopped speaking. That previous elation it felt at a saviour arriving to rescue it from the demons grasp, fizzled out like a drop of water in a drought.
That all so familiar cold remained. And the dryness of despair. As pairs of dark pupils shot back at it.
On the cruiser were tall adult Terrans. Clean cut, well fed, well dressed Terrans. Four, no Six, no eight of them. All hanging onto the side of cruiser while it made its way to their location. Compared to the demon waking up beside it, these creatures were organised. A savageness neatly packaged in a uniform with a symbol. The prisoners eyes grew wide in its sunken sockets. 8 rings, and a centre mass. They must be the cause of, well all this.
Accepting fate, its head fell in part defiance, in part to avoid the stinging eyes of these others. It felt their gaze burn through—cold, cruel, calculating. There is nothing I can do any longer.
"You're finally here. What took you so long?" The runner said to his approaching comrades, "Took all night to catch up to him."
"Hey Jan, great work", the tall militant woman shot back. With a playful punch to his arm. "Guess all that cardio really paid off, didn't I tell you it would!" She let out a playful guffaw.
"Thanks Chel", replied Jan.
"Ok chop chop people, we're on a schedule. We need to reach the port ASAP remember? Come on Jan, rest up all you like, you're still on the clock."
"Aye sir." Jan shot back in a mock salute, gaining a sneer from the commandant, then a sneaky smile.
"Don't forget your trash. And make sure its breathing still."
It creaked open its eyes, seeing pairs of boots moving towards it and standing in front. In silence. Then all of a sudden, felt pairs and pairs of hands pull and tug. and lift it up The thing let out a pathetic silent sob. While it was loaded in the back of the cruiser, face up. Staring at eyes, piercing black dots peering back. It could never understand what was being felt by those eyes and those faces.
Ixians wear their emotions on their carapace; spots and stripes would slowly appear in certain parts, representing emotions and feeling that their bodies felt in a general sense. But the most private thoughts were of course, still kept private.
But this. This was just too foreign. The eyes never stopped. Even in the swaying movement of the cruiser the pupils never broke contact. Those eyes. As if it was peering into it, envelops your entire mind. There was no way to hide, even hiding in his inner self would do no good. Those eyes. Those predator eyes can find me anywhere I try to escape to. Inside and out.
Some times passes.
"You know. I lost good friends to the royal caste. Especially to this one's brood clan or whatever they like to call it." One of them was looking right at it when they said it. It turned its eyes over to the source. A short one, with a slave scar on the neck said it. A scar that shot through his memories. A scar inflicted to property owned by, his brood. This one is dangerous..., it thought.
Jan, and the others didn't look but felt it. The cold darkness in that tone made it clear what it intended to do.
The female militant, Chel, I think her name was. Slowly reached to the side arm on her holster. Sensing the oncoming problem.
"You still understand me don't you? I've had to watch good people die. Damn good people." The scarred one one stood, grabbing the upper rail of the cruiser to steady themselves. "I hear that even if you get ill, you become the entertainment for the night. What was it now?" She paused for a brief second. "Oh I remember".
"Stil" Chel said slowly. "Cool it". Hand still on the butt of the sidearm.
Not hearing or not wanting to reply. Stil continued. "Torn apart by those raptor pets. Hands or feet cut off as souvenirs for those fucked-up parties and those fucked-up guests. Oh yea, and the 'toy play' or whatever they call it. Can't have Ken and Barbie fight back now, can we?"
Stil leaned closer to the now cowering, shaking thing, "I wonder which one was your favourite." The words cut through La'Ix like an icicle. This was the first time these demons actually spoke to it directly. And it didn't like it. It could sense the venom from the words.
"Stil..." Chel slowly got up, hand still at the ready. "I said cool it." The line had a steely warning to it. Chel wouldn't risk the mission. Even if it meant doing what must be done.
Agonizing seconds passed. The cowering, shaking thing seemed to grow whiter and whiter by the second, It's spots clearly showing what it felt. Staring up, Not willing to move but being unable to hide. It felt the absolute crushing weight of the present. Grinding it down to a paste.
Everyone stayed still. The two militants didn't move. The rest didn't seem to even have paid attention to the converstation, still looked away.
Longer passed.
Stil smiled, "Oh come on Chel, you know I wouldn't do anything to our friend here? You know I was just playing around." Stil laughed. Chel didn't react.
Stil immediately crouched, faced the shaking prisoner inches apart eye to eye, and in a whisper said "Right friend?"
She wants me to reply? Dear Ix I can't even think with those eyes in front of me What do I do?! What do I say?!
"Right. Friend?" Stil repeated slower and colder. Like the blade of a surgeon hovering over skin, ready to plunge.
The gears of its Ixian brain grinded to a screeching halt. In utter desperation to find a reply it simply gave up. Instead, it felt a warmth slowly spread. Slowly spread between its hind legs. It had released its bladder.
"BAHAHAHAHA LOOK AT IT" Stil roared in laughter. The sound of it rattling the prisoners brain with the sound. Disorienting its senses. "NOW THAT'S CLASSIC TIMING IF I'VE EVER SEEN IT!" She plopped back down face red and still laughing.
The Ixian didn't know what to do but tremble and sob silently on the cold surface of the cruiser surrounded by laughter. and the warmth of its piss. It tried to plug its ears. But the sound still came. Laughter. Laughter. Laughter. Dear Ix, what are these demons... where are they taking me? To hell?...
The cruiser kept cruising. Towards the port across the island. Trailing laughter behind. Or to the sobbing wreck of a thing, demonic cackling.
The scent of familiarity wafted into the senses of the prisoner as the cruiser started to slow. The smell of the salt, the chirping of familiar aviaries. Sound of the crash of sea. The port.
Braving a sentence for the first time in for what seems eternity. It let out a question "...w..w..where ... why... are... ... we ...h... here?" It managed to say shakily, eyes downcast.
As if in response, a sharp shove greeted it from the back and a hard hit on the ground was as much of an answer it was getting.
"Move it", Jan said gruffly.
They walked. the ixian still bound but free to walk in the middle of the group of humans. Towards a destination still not known. The walk twisted, and turned, and twisted again. One thing struck out to the prisoner. It was too clean, especially for what it was expecting, it's last experience being in the previous blood-soaked town laden with bodies and carrion eaters.
The port town was completely silent, free from the regular hustle and bustle it usually had even when the emperor was not present. And superbly clean. Not a single piece of dirt to be seen. Not a single Ixian either. Where did everyone go? Did they make it out somehow when these invaders came?
In the background, the surf broke relentlessly.
Piercing eyes caught the prisoners glance, as it wandered curiously around the town. Realising its mistake La'Ix tried to look away but the burning gaze gripped his own.
As if reading its soul. The human answered the hidden question bubbling up in La'Ix. "You should've seen them your royal majesty". The one called Stil said while bending in mocking courtesy.
The surf pounded the shore even more loudly now.
"They don't swim well. Especially the young ones. They dropped like stones. Turning all white by the time they stopped moving."
Louder now. The sea roared.
Nothing came. Not a thought in La'Ix's mind. Its mind struggled to comprehend the depth of what was said by Stil, the scarred human.
The waves boomed louder now. Louder than the sun, echoing louder than the screams of all the Ixians that must have perished.
It saw the lips of the standing-devil in front of it. But all the came from its blood red lips were obscured by the sound of the pounding of the waves. The echoes of drowned kin, thudding and slapping against the shore, merged with the relentless surf in La'Ix's mind.
This is for our sins.
Wave after wave, the relentless surge continued, each one a haunting reminder of the souls lost to the sea, each crash a ghostly thud of bodies hitting the shore.
Very slowly did some exhausted neuron in the Ixian's head come to a conclusion as to how these creatures in front of it can be so relentless, so cruel, and so evil. When pushed to beyond its breaking point, did their true carnivorous instincts rear their ugly head.
Oh dear Ix. What sort of environment could breed such demons?
La'Ix didn't remember what happened next. The memories feel like a distant dream now as he sits watching the port sky now.
The aching brand on his forehead of the 8 ringed system, pulsed in pain—a departing gift from his newly made friends, stung from the salty sea air.
He barely recalls the staggered walk from the empty inter-arm transmission office and the inputting of his biometric royal seal. He barely even remembers the message that was sent under his name and signature
And even less does he remember what he heard what will happen next.
All alone now, he stares at the sky of the empty port town. As he watches more royal ships enter the atmosphere.
He gazes upward, thoughtlessly, statue-like Knowing fate will come for them all. Fate in the form of piercing black eyes and a monster so large it can fit in a shadow.
A single thought, carried its way from above the despair to the surface. Slowly. Like a bubble in a pool of tar.
What was I meant to tell the emperor again?

This hell started for me 2.5 years ago with Covid. I came down pretty bad and presented with CFS / ME symptoms - crushing fatigue, Fluey feeling, brainfog, vertigo, POTS. After 2 years of wading through that route, I tested positive for Bartonella, Borellia amongst a host of co infections like HSV, EBV etc. i remember having a tick bite as a late teen (although never got it seen to - ffs WHY), and all my adult life I’ve definitely been weaker than friends, fatigued, bad immune system, couldn’t tolerate working out, joints swelling that the rheumatologisy couldn’t explain. So I am thinking I probably had Lyme for 10+ years kept vaguely in check by my body, unleashed by Covid
I started IV via a picc line this week. On my second day of Azithro I started vomiting for 20 hours, 0 sleep, 2 anti sickness drips later I finally could eat rice. We dropped the dose to 1/2 and pulsing. I still feel TERRIBLE like the worst flu I’ve had in my life but not throwing up. Also have chills, stiff neck, headaches, etc. By day 2 this semi passes but I feel very out of it still (and then it’s time for the next IV)…
Doing everything under the sun to detox. Infrared sauna blanket, salt baths, multiple tinctures, alkaseltzer gold, glutathione drip, lympathic massage, foot baths, 3l of water etc
I’ve fought so hard for the past 2.5 years to have some quality of life back. Yes, my life is still awful, I’m housebound but at least if I stay inside my symptoms are minimal. It’s a shell of my old life (2 jobs, planning a huge wedding, massive social life) but I wasn’t suffering 24/7. It took me 2.5 years to reach that stage. Now I’m worried I’m fucking it all up. If I am having this response to one antibiotic, what happens next week when we add another, and the week after when we have a 3rd?! Am I going to do permanent damage by treating like this? Or would the Lyme do more permanent damage untreated? Both options are awful. I’m so scared, I’m so sad. I will do about anything to get better, and will suck up the terrible herx, but my big fear is making myself permanently worse.
Please help and please be kind :(

This hell started for me 2.5 years ago with Covid. I came down pretty bad and presented with CFS / ME symptoms - crushing fatigue, Fluey feeling, brainfog, vertigo, POTS. After 2 years of wading through that route, I tested positive for Bartonella, Borellia amongst a host of co infections like HSV, EBV etc. i remember having a tick bite as a late teen (although never got it seen to - ffs WHY), and all my adult life I’ve definitely been weaker than friends, fatigued, bad immune system, couldn’t tolerate working out, joints swelling that the rheumatologisy couldn’t explain. So I am thinking I probably had Lyme for 10+ years kept vaguely in check by my body, unleashed by Covid
I started IV via a picc line this week. On my second day of Azithro I started vomiting for 20 hours, 0 sleep, 2 anti sickness drips later I finally could eat rice. We dropped the dose to 1/2 and pulsing. I still feel TERRIBLE like the worst flu I’ve had in my life but not throwing up. Also have chills, stiff neck, headaches, etc. By day 2 this semi passes but I feel very out of it still (and then it’s time for the next IV)…
Doing everything under the sun to detox. Infrared sauna blanket, salt baths, multiple tinctures, alkaseltzer gold, glutathione drip, lympathic massage, foot baths, 3l of water etc
I’ve fought so hard for the past 2.5 years to have some quality of life back. Yes, my life is still awful, I’m housebound but at least if I stay inside my symptoms are minimal. It’s a shell of my old life (2 jobs, planning a huge wedding, massive social life) but I wasn’t suffering 24/7. It took me 2.5 years to reach that stage. Now I’m worried I’m fucking it all up. If I am having this response to one antibiotic, what happens next week when we add another, and the week after when we have a 3rd?! Am I going to do permanent damage by treating like this? Or would the Lyme do more permanent damage untreated? Both options are awful. I’m so scared, I’m so sad. I will do about anything to get better, and will suck up the terrible herx, but my big fear is making myself permanently worse.
Please help and please be kind :(

Hi,
In the lead up to giving birth I was told you’ll KNOW when you’re in labour. Well… I didn’t! So here is my story to show how some symptoms can look/feel different.
My brith plan was for low intervention, but not against pain relief and medical inputs as required.
I had 2 x stretch and sweep, one at 39 weeks, and one at 40 weeks.
For my 40 week stretch and sweep my “spotting” was heavier than the 39 week one. Also the period like cramping was worse.
I didn’t think much of it, until 5 hours later the spotting got a bit heavier so I called the hospital for advice.
After a series of questions they suspected my waters had broken and I went in for a check. And yup - was my waters. For me it was only a trickle and pinkish.
I was given the option to go home so I did.
A few hours later I passed a small clot, so again went back to hospital for some monitoring. Baby was fine. Pre-labour surges were manageable. But we stayed overnight as it was 1am and we were too tired to drive home.
I put my TENS on and tried to get some sleep. I didn’t really sleep due to the strong surges, which I felt were about 30 mins apart.
In the morning I was told if my labour hadn’t progressed by midday I should consider and induction to avoid infection (nearing 24 hrs since waters broke). I agreed.
I went for a walk to get a tea at around 11am. I stopped a few times as it hurt and breathed through it.
I was disappointed at midday that nothing seemed to be happening. So we put in a low dose synthetic oxytocin drip and checked my cervix…..
Turns out I was 7cm dilated!!!!!!
After that my partner and I put on a movie to watch, but things moved quickly.
About 30 mins into the movie I was in active labour.
Around 2 hrs later we had a baby!!!!
All up from waters breaking to delivery was 25 hours.
Labour was manageable with TENS and gas. I had a great team around me and lots of support.
My partner played some music, and helped with massage and changing positions.
I managed only minimal tearing, no stitches.
We did do quite a bit of prep in terms of calm birthing type classes, breathing exercises, and perennial massage. I’d also done pre natal yoga.
I was very scared of the pain, but almost 2 weeks later it’s only a distant memory….!!!!
Anyway I just wanted to share this as I have heard so many negative brith stories, and I’m a very ordinary person with narrow hips, advanced maternal age, who wasn’t convinced I could do it!!!! But here we are!!!!!
Good luck ladies x