I am almost done! This challenge gets harder the longer it goes on. Week 4 is when I hit the point of not feeling like it's worth it to go on. But I don't want to have done this for nothing so I am going to see it through. The gastritis is to a point where it doesn't matter what I eat. Even a sip of water makes me want to vomit. The joint and muscle pain is constant. The stabbing pains under my ribs are nearly constant. The fatigue seems to depend on what/when I ate. Headaches are almost every day. My pants don't fit because I am too bloated. My endoscopy is on Friday which means Thursday will be my last gluten day. Now I just have to plan my "last meal."

Sharp headaches are now waking me up out of sound sleep with sharp arm pains from armpits to hands like someone is squeezing them, pins & needles on both, in addition to similar leg pain, bulging veins in hands and legs.
I took 4 days of a combo birth control pill to start IVF & this began with mild headache, diarrhea, nausea, tinnitus, dry mouth, enlarged leg veins, leg skin felt burning sensation on fire, severe restless legs, dry skin, hot flashes, elevated rhr & bp. 6 days ago I stopped after the leg items began & it felt like an allergic reaction, noticed immediate improvement in skin on fire feelings, diarrhea and headache but everything else I listed is same or worse. RHR & BP have come back down to normal but other symptoms have not. Duplex US Tuesday ruled out leg DVT then, told to wear compression socks, try magnesium and Benadryl - nothing's working and I'm getting worse.
I don't ever get headaches. Friday a severe right sided headache happened, started with tight feeling on both sides of the neck with temple/eye socket/head then jaw pain. Right eye vision went slightly blurry and eye felt pressure. Saturday afternoon similar headache experience, then 12 hrs later after taking Benadryl I was sound asleep when it happened again, waking me up at 2am except now with sharp pains / pins & needle feelings and major pressure on both arms for 15m wirh intermittent leg pains like the arms too. Fitbit says pulse ox was only 92% tonight, never happened before.
I'm only sleeping 2-4hrs a night and am terrified of what's happening. This is fucking insane that 4 pills have caused this kind of reactions? Please, anyone, any suggestions?
36/f, 210 lbs, 5'5" on Nexium, Flonase, and levothyroxine.

37 Female - 5'4" - 130 lbs - ex smokevape - weekly alcohol use of like 1 or 2 on weekends - no drugs
Allergies: Erythromycin
My gallbladder was removed in 2011
Ok so, the situation, Wednesday morning I woke up at 4:30 AM to pee and it stung. I immediately knew I had a UTI and would go to my Durgent care once they opened to get antibiotics. Not five minutes later I had to pee again and there were blood clots. Never had blood clots before with a UTI and also I'm not super prone for UTIs like some people. I've had maybe 4 in my life.
It escalated pretty quickly. I went from no symptoms when I went to bed to passing massive clots and my urine looking like chunky strawberry jello within just a couple of hours.
So go to the Dr office, they take a sample (it comes back E Coli), give me a shot of Rocephin and a script for Bactrim to take for 7 days, 2 pills a day. Since then I have been taking the medicine but I'm still having horrible symptoms.
Now the blood, clots, stinging, anything related to the UTI cleared up within a day. However I started to develop fevers (no fevers prior to taking the antibiotics), chills, massive constant headaches. My skin hurts so bad it's painful to move. It's the kind of pain you get when you're sick but just very intense. Hurts the most right below my breasts but even just getting up to use the bathroom feels horrible because I'll get the chills and it tightens my skin and it's just very painful.
Other symptoms I still have: heart palpitations, hunger seemed to disappear Friday. I am forcing myself to eat. Prickling sensation in my hands that sometimes appear elsewhere on my body - this feeling is not constant but comes and goes. Can feel/hear blood pumping in my head which makes me feel like I've got fluid? Tired/Woozy feeling in general.
So my concern is that I've never had UTI symptoms last long once I start the antibiotics and it's usually easy sailing while I finish the script. These prolonged symptoms are weird for me. What could possibly be going on? Stubborn UTI? Sepsis? Back doesn't hurt for kidney infection. Could I be allergic to Bactrim?
Any thoughts would be appreciated. Thank you!

As of recent, Amnesia: The Bunker has taken over my thoughts and has quickly become one of my favorite horror games of all time.
It also would make for an excellent Chapter in Dead by Daylight, or at least I think so. As such, please enjoy this absolutely MASSIVE post where I make up a bunch of stuff for something that may or may not happen one day in the future.

THE BEAST

THE BEAST is a ferocious killer, able to use its power, DARK URGES, to force Survivors to play a game of careful resource management should they wish to escape the Trial unscathed.
It's three unique Perks, HEIGHTENED SENSES, HAYWIRE and DESCENT INTO DARKNESS allow THE BEAST to locate Survivors much easier, even through their objectives.

DARK URGES
The urge to cause immense pain and suffering fuels THE BEAST'S bloodlust, and can only be stopped by the sanctity of light.
At the start of the match, the Trial is covered in inky black darkness, limiting the Survivor's field of view.
In order to light up the Trial, Survivors must locate Fuel Canisters found within special Chests and bring them to the Gas-Powered Generator found within the depths of the Basement. Only six of these special Chests can spawn in a single Trial.
One Fuel Canister gives one minute of light, and the Generator is fully fueled when 2 Canisters are deposited.
While the Trial is plunged in darkness, THE BEAST can hear grunts of pain and footsteps far easier. In addition, whenever a Loud Noise Notification is triggered within THE BEAST'S Terror Radius, THE BEAST gains the Haste Status Effect for 3 seconds, while the Survivor that triggered the Loud Noise Notification is afflicted with the Exposed Status Effect for 5 seconds.
When the map is lit up, THE BEAST loses the ability to track Survivors easier, and Loud Noise Notifications triggered within its Terror Radius no longer cause the Haste and Exposed Status Effects.
Instead, THE BEAST can then traverse the map via a system of Rat Tunnels scattered across the map. These Rat Tunnels can be blocked by Survivors, causing THE BEAST to emerge from them at a slower rate and give the Survivors a warning that it's emerging.
Blocking a Rat Tunnel takes 5 seconds.
"Watch each other's backs. Keep each other safe. Do not let the light go out... For all our sakes..." - Unknown

HEIGHTENED SENSES:
Your animalistic senses make it so that even proceeding with caution will not save them.
Survivors that slow vault or enter a Locker slowly within your Terror Radius still trigger a Loud Noise Notification.
This effect can only be triggered once every 70/50/45 seconds.
"Every time I take a step, I swear it can hear me." - Sdt. Chanard

HAYWIRE:
Your mere presence causes electronics to malfunction.
When a Generator that is being worked on by a Survivor enters your Terror Radius, that Generator is afflicted with the Haywire Status Effect for 5/10/15 seconds.
While afflicted with the Haywire Status Effect, the lights located on the top of the Generator begin to wildly flash on and off, and sputtering noises begin to emanate from the Generator itself.
"ES KOMMT!" - Prisoner #73014

DESCENT INTO DARKNESS:
The darkness can mess with one's senses, causing them to spiral into a panic and giving you the opportunity to land a killing blow.
Whenever a Survivor is afflicted with the Blindness Status Effect, they scream and reveal their location for 1/2/3 second(s).
This effect can only be triggered once every 50 seconds.
"We whirl the world, the world we whirl... It all gets lost in a terrible twirl..." - Sdt. Toussaint Beaufoy

Henri Clément is a resourceful member of the French Army stationed within an underground bunker during the first World War. After suffering severe head trauma that left him with Amnesia, he awoke to a nightmare that he could not escape from without careful planning... And a little bit of luck.
Henri Clément comes with three unique Perks: HIDEAWAY, C'EST LA VIE, and BLOODY ATONEMENT.

HIDEAWAY:
Within the suffocating darkness, you manage to survive despite all odds.
While in the Basement, your Aura is hidden from the Killer for 10/15/25 seconds and your breathing volume, grunts of pain and footstep volume is reduced by 75%.

C'EST LA VIE:
When life deals a bad hand, you simply keep moving. You must keep moving.
While suffering from Status Effects inflicted by Killer Perks or Powers, your Scratch Marks are tightly packed and fade away 5/10/15% faster.
"Ah, fate's a bastard!" - Sdt. Augustin Lambert

BLOODY ATONEMENT:
Your guilt compels you to act to save the life of another.
Whenever you take a Protection Hit for another Survivor, that Survivor gains the Haste Status Effect for 3 seconds and they leave no Scratch Marks.
This effect can only be triggered once every 90/60/50 seconds.
"I must do something or risk greeting Hell itself as a relief." - Sdt. Henri Clément

Map: THE BUNKER
The Bunker is an indoor map with two levels: the Bunker itself, and the Roman Tunnels.
The Entity has mashed together sections of the Bunker in order to keep things nice and compact... Well, more compact than they already were.
Tight hallways and small rooms make it so that evading the Killer is difficult, but not entirely impossible if Survivors play it smart. Dark corners all around the map also allow Survivors to hide effectively, should they wish to take a more stealthy approach.
Special features include mutated rats that serve a similar function to crows, skittering off into holes whenever a Survivor or the Killer draws near. A stray artillery shell will also hit the Bunker every time a Generator is completed, causing the entire first level of the Bunker to quake.

Hello everyone,
I'm trying to gain weight and have noticed some changes in my bowel habits that are starting to concern me. I'd like to share my situation in detail to get advice on whether what I'm experiencing is normal or if I should consult a professional.

1. Diet and Caloric Intake: I increased my caloric intake from around 2200 -2600 calories a day to 3000. My diet is mainly focused on complex carbohydrates (like oats, brown rice, and sweet potatoes), lean proteins (chicken breast, turkey, red meat, legumes), and healthy fats (avocado, olive oil, nuts). I've also added more fruits and vegetables to maintain a good fiber intake.
2. Changes in Bowel Habits: Before this change in diet, my bowel movements were quite regular, once a day with normal consistency. Now, I go 2 to 3 times a day, and the stools are much softer, sometimes bordering on diarrhea. There is no blood, but the frequency and consistency are quite different from usual.
3. Supplements and Hydration: I've started supplementing my diet with a bit more whey protein powder, which I take post-workout. I also drink at least 3 liters of water a day to try to stay well hydrated.
4. Additional Symptoms: I don’t have severe abdominal pain, nausea, or vomiting, but I sometimes experience mild cramps after eating, especially after meals high in fiber.

Personal Details: I am 24 years old, male, 6’2” (188 cm) tall, and weigh 156 lbs (71 kg).
My question is: Are this frequency and consistency of bowel movements common during a bulking phase? Is it something that others have experienced? Should I be concerned and talk to a doctor or a dietitian, or are there adjustments I could try on my own before seeking professional help?
Thanks in advance for any advice or experiences you can share. I want to make sure I proceed in the healthiest way possible during this stage of my muscle growth.

Hello all, I’m writing here full of anxiety and it seems I just can’t stop crying.
In December 15th, my mom got a huge spike of fever, every time she ate, her body temperature went under the roof. She finally agreed to call an ambulance. After 16hs at the hospital we heard a diagnosis - perforated diverticulitis in several places, emergency surgery and colostomy needed. She went through it, spend 5 days not knowing she will live or die. She spend two weeks in a hospital. Seeing my mom this way, scared, hopeless, weak, was the hardest thing I had to witness. My heart shattered in million pieces, but I’m so so glad she was alive.
Once we got home, after rehabilitation, things started to go back to normal step by step. Still taking antibiotics, but she was up and about. One hell of a strong woman my mom is!. But to our surprise - temperature rise again - her incision wound got infected. Another round of antibiotics - no success. As we live in a small town, healthcare system could not do as many tests as she needed - I brought her back to my place to the capital of the country and brought her to the er - 10 cm capsule of infected puss under her surgical incision. They cut it out and took a sample - three different gut bacteria’s were living under her skin. Three different antibiotics to fight it off- for 40 fucking days. I seen my mom cry, I see her face and the words “I’m so tired of being sick” was hurting the most. But finally, April 3rd - mom crp levels were back to normal.
We found a best doctor in an area, and went to meet him. His empathy hypnotised us - mom got scheduled for a reversal surgery May 17th. As she said - it was easier the first time - all the anxiety and waiting for the surgery, thinking about complications, dreaming of shitting herself in front of the class ( she is a biology teacher) everything seemed like too much. As mom and i are best friends, we are a team, I could feel her anxiety, but not imagine what she went through and still had to go through.
She got her colostomy reversal surgery 48 hours ago. As she said, she cannot compare it with the first time, it’s much easier. Also, she passes gas every time she moves (today was the first time she stood up and went to the bathroom and passed some mucous!). Her temperature is a bit elevated, but nurses said it’s fine and expected after such surgery. but I’m so scared we have to go through the same path again - long and painful reabilitation, shitloads of antibiotics, mom losing all her hope and I’m unable to help :(
My mom is in her 60s. No illnesses apart from this situation, all her blood work is better than mine (I’m 28) 😅 she is so strong and I’m so proud of her, but also so soooo scared.
Maybe someone been in similar situation regarding this journey? How can I help my mom? Is it as hard to recover form reversal as it is from original surgery? What she can expect? I need some insights I’m so lost and want to be the best for my mom and her recovery journey.

Hi female 23 years old here! has anyone already had this kind of lump in the back of the throat behind the uvula? I had a tonsillectomy when I was a kid so I have no tonsils. I also have a sore throat and pain when I swallow!
I have a lot of other issues my doctor sent me to a rheumatologist because I have petechiae appearing anywhere on my body (under my eyes, in my mouth, back, arms, belly, legs…) as well as nausea sometimes vomiting and a lot of burping (feeling like air is blocked in my throat). Also I have some kind of hot flushes where I have the impression that my forehead, back and neck skin are burning and feel like I have fever but my temperature is normal (max 37,5°C)… I also am extremely tired, never feel rested and need to take a nap during the day even if I slept 10 hours. My doctor tested for vasculitis but it’s negative. I also had an endoscopy in my stomach everything is normal. I had anemia but got ferritin injection so now it should be normal but I have to go get it retested. If anyone has experienced something like this or if you have any idea of what it could be it would be great.

Since roughly 2013 I have been going through some pretty severe health issues. It began with my body hurting all over, mainly my hips, legs and knees. At this time I had no idea what was causing the symptoms & had basically become strictly bed ridden from 2013-2020, and even then I still preferred to stay in bed because my pain is so overwhelming some days, but due to my living situation at that time I had no other choice & had to learn to live with the pain. I will say moving around a lot more did help, but also not being in a toxic stressful situation helped me a lot as well. I've noticed stress is my major flair up symptom.
Anyways, in about 2020 I was diagnosed with Lyme Disease. It took me multiple, countless attempts to even get a doctor to do this test on me because prior to this all the doctors I saw regarding my pain would just shrug it off due to my age, I am currently 29/yo F. They also would constantly just say that I was overweight, when majority of my weight gain was due to the fact I am constantly in so much pain. Prior to this condition I was very lively, walked everywhere & just overall enjoyed life. This disease has changed me into someone completely different....
Another common reason doctors refused to do testing on me was because "You have a big chest so majority of your pain is coming from that" (my bra is literally a size 38B..... So sorry doc, but don't think that's the case either)
Anyways, after finally finding a doctor to take me seriously she began me on an antibiotic for a month. After that month, no resolve in my symptoms, so she went to Doxycycline. Sadly, my symptoms still didn't get better so she referred me to the Lyme specialist in the city 30min away from where I currently live. Sadly, due to my situation I didn't have a way to get to the specialist until mid 2023.
After seeing the specialist he put me on 2 more rounds of antibiotics with no resolve & stated if I came back with no improvements he would want to do a spinal tap to ensure the Lyme disease had not gotten to my brain. This was extremely terrifying to hear.
After this I went though a dark period in my life due to my family doctor refusing to help treat my pain. My previous Dr had me on Gabapentin, but sadly moved locations and my new doctor denied continuing to keep me on that medication even though I stared it worked well for my condition.
I currently am now on 120mg methadone, but that is not even helping the pain sadly. Shit heroin didn't even help the pain, so now I'm left feeling crippled, slowly feeling my abilities to walk drifting away & then to top that off since being on methadone I've developed new GI symptoms, as well as an increase in my neurological symptoms.
Does anyone know any other ways to help with this pain? I just want to live a normal life, do normal things & be happy, but right now that seems impossible. It makes me so upset because I don't even recall ever being bit by a tick, constantly have people telling me I am too young to be in so much pain & overall find people are highly inconsiderate of my issues due to my physical appearance. It leaves me hopeless & feeling completely alone. It's the worst having family and friends argue with me and just call me lazy, when I am really just in so much pain that even the slightest pressure on my legs, hips or spine makes me almost go into tears. Sometimes it even feels like cold water running down my leg or tingly. Occasionally I feel this in the back of my head & the left side of my chest as well, which is new and highly concerning, yet my doctor didn't seem to care about that one either.
I feel like I'm going to end up dying if I can't find some way to resolve this pain & stop the progression of my Lyme disease :( anyone have any natural ways to heal myself?

probably going to be a long post, sorry in advance. had them a few times tn so i’m a little scattered
in december or january of this year i woke up when i was just getting to sleep and felt like my heart was melting- super hot, not beating, just liquidated. it happened once, i put it out of mind for several months, and then in late february while writing a paper for class I had a numbness around my heart, left arm, and shoulder.
as i was very busy the next day i ignored it and went to class like normal but it felt almost pinched, not painful but very uncomfortable and if i sat or laid down wrong i felt it would stop beating. this got progressively worse in class to the point where i had a 15 second episode of sweating, nausea, dizziness, dread, and numbness in both arms. when i went to the ER they found nothing wrong after testing just about everything + a chest X ray. said it was stress and shuffled me out with heartburn meds and painkillers.
since then they seem to come and go every few weeks. maybe a month later those episodes of jolting up in the night resumed. they’re never the same. at one point i had around 7 in one night and just kept going back to sleep and ignoring them, and one day i had just one and was a nervous wreck the next day, couldn’t go to class. i felt sometimes my heart was not beating, or it was hot, or my chest was hollow, or all the air had suddenly been sucked out of me (which is the kind i’m having now). they last one second or less and 9 times out of ten i roll over seconds later if i even sit up at all. the “panic” part isn’t there.
after going to another doctors appointment they again said it must be panic attacks and had me take sertraline and hydroxyzine. to my understanding these are for general anxiety and stopping panic attacks WHICH ARE NOT APPLICABLE TO ME! i’m literally able to have one, feel my heartbeat and confirm i’m not short of breath, and go back to sleep. it’s done in one second, i don’t need a pill to stop it.
after that appointment in march they’ve been infrequent or so mild i question whether i even had one, but tonight i’ve had 3 after trying to sleep for 2 hours. each time i feel like there’s no air in my lungs and i have a strong shock, sit up, and find i’m not short of breath and my heartbeat is normal. i feel like i’ve been misdiagnosed and there is something physically wrong with me, in my heart or lungs or maybe even my brain. can anyone tell me if this actually fits the bill for a panic attack? i’ve had the kind everyone talks about before, i understood the causes, and they resolved on their own. i’ve found absolutely nothing on them being like this.
for context i am 21M, in good shape, the most unhealthy things about me is i go to bed at 4 most nights and vape more than i’d like to.
tl;dr: symptoms are unlike anything i can find on the internet, think i’ve been misdiagnosed. looking for similar experiences or guidance

Is it possible that 4 days on BCP, after being a long hauler previously, caused mcas?
Took BCP for 4 days, off it for 6 now.
Current Symptoms that started 10 days ago: Anxiety, depression, increased temperature, diarrhea, increased BP (119/77 to 143/86) & RHR (68 to 74), stronger tinnitus, severe RLS at night only sleeping 1-2 hrs at a time, leg pains over veins, bulging veins in legs mainly but also hands, psoriasis flare and expansion on ankles and elbows, dry skin that felt on fire on my body, legs that felt like fire ants were crawling on them, dry mouth, headache, noticeable veins over whole body and insomnia. So many of these overlapping with my previous LC experience.
About Me 36/F 5'5" 208lbs, PCOS, psoriasis, hypothyroid, reflux, Gastroparesis, dry eye, infertility and IDWA. On Nexium, synthroid, prenatal, CoQ10, D3, B12, omega 3s, and miralax 2x/day.
2021 infection after 3x moderna, tinnitus, pots, exertion intolerance, post viral Gastroparesis, dry eye, brain fog. 4 months post infection had GB removed, helped symptoms a lot. 2022 and 2023 boosters went totally fine, no issues. Modified diet, worked w/post covid clinic & by 2023 besides tinnitus & GP, felt great and was cleared by every specialist at age 35 to try for a baby.
2023 Conceived and lost 3 pregnacies in a row. First in Sept at 10w miscarriage, then had COVID 3 weeks later - took paxlovid and it helped tremendously, didn't feel like any symptoms worsened. Next December and Feb. By the 2nd pregnancy I was severely iron deficient from my limited GP diet & pregnacy (ferritin 4, iron sat 21%, iron 30, abnormal mch/MCV) and I feel that contributed to the 2 later losses, first was random genetic. IV iron Infusions necessary bc didn't tolerate oral with GP, did 4 and just finished 4/30 - getting updated iron bloods Monday.
Now Stopped BC 4 days ago when it became unbearable & went to PCP, they're baffled as the extreme leg and vein stuff doesn't fit bc side effects. Sent me & no DVT on duplex US, told stop BC, wear compression socks, take magnesium, elevate, watch BP. I wake up at night with knee and below feeling hot, woke up shaking one night. BP and RhR 5 days out have started to stabilize 🙏 but even now I still experience side of neck tightening, yesterday and today had major sharp headaches when I never get headaches in my life and one eye blurry - it went to my teeth and then my left eye felt a bit of pressure and now is slightly blurry despite my eye drops. Tonight I was sound asleep when I was woken up at 3:45am by a sharp headache and pins & needles from my armpits to my hands, then pressure that lasted 15-30 mins. Are these migraines?
I can't believe 4 fucking pills did this all to me. Is this mcas? Autoimmune? Hormonal? Dr ruled out DVT with us but that's it so far.
Any help or suggestions of what to look into. extremely appreciated. 🙏

My last flat was unbearable.
I mean, you try having a family of 11 live above you, when half of them are under the age of 8. Also try having a pair of raging alcoholic neighbours on either side of you. A pair who were once married to each other. My eyes rivalled that of pigeons’ due to no sleep.
I lasted a total of 21 days. I know, new record huh? I just about shoved the keys back in the grubby hands of my landlord when I finally saw the lunacy inscribed on his face. No wonder the rent was dirt cheap.
So I was back on the road, not on the streets though. Luckily enough I started questioning the flat by day 8, looked around for another place by day 15, and made a decision to get the hell out on day 18. 3 days of packing and it was bye-bye.
My new place seemed all the better too: yes, the rent was more expensive, and yes, it only has 2 bedrooms. But at least it was a house, one where pesky neighbours were at least 5 metres away. On my right, at least. On my left? Their house - thankfully - couldn’t even be seen where I stood.
Parking my car, I skipped up towards my new house with my fresh set of keys. And on entering? Silence. Perfect still silence. Thank the Lord. I basked in it for a while before returning to my car, unloading some of my baggage. It took 3-4 hauls, but I managed to fit it into one of the bedrooms. Thankfully, the rest of my things were to be brought by moving vans in about an hour.
I envisioned what the house could look like with a few finishing touches.
“But first…”
I eyed the 2 rooms. “Mine!”
The room I had chosen to be mine gave a bright view of my own smaller garden, as well as a portion of my right neighbour’s house, but that didn’t matter much. The view in the other room would suck: just my car and some reeds.
I was just about done heaving some of my baggage into my newly-chosen room when the doorbell gave an obnoxious ring. I stood, fighting the urge to just run away into one of my rooms when it beeped again.
Reaching the door, I eyed out of the peephole to see nothing but an opaque whiteness. I guess the downside in this house is that the last tenant was a slob. I eyed some of the yellowing walls. Sighing, I opened the door.
“Hello! We’re your neighbours, Jack and Sally, and we live just there,” She motioned towards my right, “We came to introduce ourselves, and to let you know that if you ever need anything, we’re right here.”
She then shoved a basket full of biscuits at my chest, a motherly-smile stretched around her lips. She turned to leave, husband - clearly forced to follow her - in tow, when she turned around.
“Your name, dear?”
“Leen!” I shouted after her.
“Perfect.”
And perfect it was, I thought. Neighbours that respect their distance from you, and give you food? I eyed the delicious snacks in front of me. Definitely an upgrade.
Though it was at dawn the very next day that I woke up, shook.
~
See, I was just sleeping in my newly delivered bed when I heard it. Something that sounded like a bird, a huge caw, before it alternated into different pitches. Disoriented, I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes in order to focus better. But it just made me more confused.
It sounded like a chicken.
As far as I know, this new place was not the countryside, nor farmland. So what? And why?
I stepped up to my window to take a good look outside. I wouldn’t keep a rooster in my home that’s for sure. Whatever it was, it was coming from…
My jaw dropped.
I closed my eyes and scrubbed at them harshly.
Please tell me why I opened my eyes and saw the exact same thing.
A man, on his haunches, face pointed towards the sky, was making rooster noises.
And he was on my neighbours’ garden. The ones I met earlier.
He looked absolutely demented. I wasn’t even scared then, just flabbergasted. I wasted no time calling the police at this disturbing nuisance.
When they arrived though, I saw my neighbours’ shoot straight from their house, speaking or…was it pleading? With the officers. What on Earth..?
Anyway, it was their problem now, so I went back to bed. I had a whole bunch of chores the next day, and had to get it all sorted before I returned to work.
Shutting my eyes, I wished for peace. And quiet, thank you very much.
~
At last, I woke up at 10 AM. By 1 PM, I had sorted my clothing into its respective drawers, and had decorated my bedroom walls, including a new golden addition. And now? I had food cooking on the stove. It felt satisfying, having cleaned up and now awaiting the prize of food.
I scrolled on my phone as I waited for the pasta to cook, before another ding turned my attention towards the door.
“Huh, what now?”
Unfortunately I hadn’t cleaned the peephole yet, so I had to open the door. There stood Jack and Sally. Or Sally and Jack. Jack looked lost. Sally stared deep into my eyes.
“Was it you?”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“That called the police last night?”
I recalled the past night, and gave her a thumbs up, hoping my smile was reassuring. “Yep, don’t worry, that lunatic will not be coming back ever again. He can go to the zoo if he wants to squawk.”
I should’ve taken the cue from Jack’s paling face, but Sally grabbed hold of me. “Listen here, okay? That man, the one you called the police on...” She trembled, “He’s my son! You can’t do that! He was not even on your property!”
My eyes widened. “He’s…your son?”
“Of course! How can you not see that?”
Nodding at her, I relinquished myself from the hold she had on my arms. “Okay then, sorry for the call. But I do have to mention something,” Jack started to shake his head behind his wife, but I ignored the little-to-say man, “Is there any way you can keep the noise down to a minimum? Honestly, your son has vocal cords of steel! It would wake the entire neighbourhood at this rate.”
Sally stared pointedly at me, then took a look around my house. “Very well.”
She grabbed her husband’s arm as she turned to leave, and I caught the slightest look of fear in his eyes before he was abruptly pulled away.
I dismissed it - and the sinking feeling - on discovering my very soft, overcooked pasta when I came back into my home though.
I managed to also do one thing before wrapping up: I cleaned out my door's peephole. Now I wouldn't have to open the door to know it's them. I'd just speak at them from the inside if they were to come back.
~
I woke, jolting out of my bed the very next morning, or night. I checked my bedside clock to see it was 3:50 AM. The cock-a-doodle-doo was breaking into my head. I grasped my hair in frustration, knowing that I didn’t have the madman’s parents phone numbers’ to call, or maybe scream at them. It was the exact same thing as the day before! Except…maybe…
I strained my ear.
It sounded a lot closer.
My hands, for some reason, became clammy instantly, and the urgent thumping of my own heart - the fragility of my own life - became all the more prominent.
I tiptoed to my window and peeked outside. Nothing.
I then slowly treaded to my spare bedroom, and pulled the curtains apart. Zilch. Nada. Though…
Almost as if under a spell, my head turned towards my main door. I…I could somehow feel it. Just to confirm though, I peeked out of the door-hole.
And with a slam, I collapsed in my new, dream home.
~
When I came to, I was lying on white sheets, and a bright white light hung over me.
A hospital.
I was in my own room, which I found odd. It was not like I needed it. But then a doctor walked in, followed by 3 other people, and it all made sense. Everything - blurs and sureness - melted into a perfect picture.
Sally, Jack, and their son.
He couldn’t be more than 17 really. Though he looked 37 a few hours ago. Face pressed against the glass of my peephole, mouth wide open towards it, eyes pointing in different directions as his face reddened and contorted.
I was deaf in one moment. Then came the COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO.
Of course I fainted. Who could blame me?
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr Lam. You’re in A&E right now. Are you able to tell me your full name and date of birth?
My voice answered the Doctor’s questions, but my eyes stared dazed at the youngster’s abdomen, not daring to reach his its eyes.
“Well, nothing seems to be wrong with you. You may have just been dehydrated. Did you have any headache or pain before you fainted?”
I replied in the negative.
“Luckily, your friends’ son had found you passed out, and ensured your speedy arrival to hospital, so I wouldn’t be worried about any damage.”
My eyes finally strayed, looking towards the ground. I held the nauseousness of bile down my throat. Following a brief check-up, I was allowed to leave.
And 2 people and a demon followed me out.
“Well, Leen, that should give you a lesson,”
Sally.
I turned towards the family, who stood in a 3 person arc. Only 1 managed to look away, equal parts shame and guilt. I don’t need to mention who that was.
“Don’t worry. You can look at me, I don’t bite: not now and not at dawn,” a strained voice whispered at me. “I promise, it’s only at dawn when I…when I…”
“Hush Dean, don’t work your voice that much. You’ll need to save it for later.”
I was still dizzy. That didn’t stop me from running half-hobbled to the taxi stand, where I begged and claimed to many that I would provide double payment if they were to take me to my house.
It took a while, but I managed to pack some of my clothes. There was no way in hell I was sleeping at that damned house again, not now, not ever. I called and booked at a nearby hotel in the meantime.
I was done packing necessities by the evening. Walking out of my house, I saw no sign of those three. I would have been relieved, had I not come face to face with than one thing: standing in my garden, leaning against my car. My breathing picked up instantly.
Dean
It stood with its back resting against my car. And It noticed me immediately. Seems like it was just waiting for me to notice it.
“Are you leaving?” It sounded almost sad, but I needed it to move away, or my only way out of there would be in jeopardy.
“For the night.” My answer? Almost smooth, but even I could hear the first shake in my voice.
It nodded though. “Okay.” And he moved from my car. I counted the distance. 1 metre. 2. 2.5-
It made a sudden dash at me as I - in flight response - ran frantically to the driver’s seat, locking the door. I came in half-squashed, my backpack still on my back. But I didn’t care.
Its face was pressed against the window.
“Mum is waiting for a person that will like me for me, not run away. You’re supposed to like me.” It said, matter-of-factly. It then wailed, and sunk beneath the car window.
I did not dare to sit up and see what it was doing.
I didn’t even need to though. The sound came a split-second later.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO
Tears spilled from my eyes. My limbs felt weak. I couldn’t even breathe. It suddenly sprang up to the window. Eyes enlarged: looking at me and everywhere at once.
“I can actually tur-COCK- in the day too, but M-DOODLE- said it would be too much for you,” wheezing, it exclaimed again before adding, “but this is ME. Do you-do you, do you like me?”
With dead limbs I weighed my foot on the pedal, and jump-started the car to speed off. My head shook left-and-right in response, stomach heaving with nausea.
Human preservation kicked me into taking proper control of the car when I saw, out of the rear view mirror, Sally. This time with a rope, which locked around the creature’s neck before she tugged, drawing it into her house. At one point we locked eyes. And what do I mean by we?
Answer: the 2 of them and me.
It was honestly a miracle that I did not get into a road traffic accident.
I spent 3 days living in the hotel after that, my job long-forgotten in the aftermath.
By day 4 I broke down and called my older sister, asking to stay at her place for a while. Her house and area seemed fine the times I’d stopped over. I guess I clearly did not seem right though, as she many-a-time asked me what was wrong. My answer? Stress. She persisted, years of living together as kids helping her figure out my lies, though she ultimately gave up after a week. She knew it was something I didn’t want to share, and that I was safe now. That was enough for her.
For me? I guess at the time I so badly wanted to tell someone. Though it couldn’t be my sister. I didn’t want to cause any trouble. Nor see if she’d even believe me, or instead rank me at the same IQ level as her two 5-year-olds.
For a few weeks, I stayed with my sister and her family, reassuring both her and myself that I was fine. Thankfully, we worked together to find a small apartment. Next to a kids school too - bonus points. I now craved safety above all else. After moving out though, I realised I needed my belongings back.
So, who picked up my stuff from that cursed residence, you ask? The moving people. I called the police from a random phone booth first to head over to that area, emphasising on seeing some suspicious looking men, whilst I got them to collect everything. I did not dare to call the police on that family though. I would prefer if the link between me and them got cut, drawn and quartered.
So now I’m here, in an apartment which thankfully hasn’t shown any sign of insanity. Inspecting my belongings, I noticed that there was one thing missing.
My gold frame, used to encase my make-shift certificate - made by yours truly after her 21-day record from the previous apartment - was gone.
I felt somewhat miffed, but then I realised something.
Something which can maybe bring the light out in this whole situation.
I counted carefully. I broke my record.
With a grand stay of 2 days. Now that - that I don’t think I’d ever be able to beat.

The old family home stood at the edge of town, its once grand facade now weathered and worn by time. The town's whispers about the house had reached my ears many times throughout my childhood, but I had never given them much thought. Now, standing before the creaking gate that led to the overgrown path, I felt an inexplicable urge to discover the truth.
I had inherited the house after my great-uncle Nathaniel passed away, a man I barely knew but whose presence seemed to linger in every corner. The dusty heirlooms and musty bookshelves hinted at a long and storied history. It was a history I intended to uncover.
The first few days were uneventful. I spent my time clearing out cobwebs and sorting through old papers, most of which were mundane—bills, letters, old photographs. But then, tucked away in a hidden compartment of Nathaniel's desk, I found a bundle of letters tied with a faded red ribbon. The letters were old, the paper yellowed and brittle. They were addressed to my great-grandmother, Beatrice, from someone named Arthur.
The letters spoke of forbidden love, betrayal, and a pact made in desperation. Arthur's words grew increasingly frantic as he described a dark secret shared by the family—a secret that, if revealed, would bring ruin upon them all. My curiosity piqued, I read on, unable to tear myself away.
One letter in particular stood out. Dated December 3, 1923, it detailed a horrific event: a fire that had claimed the lives of several townspeople. Arthur confessed to starting the fire, claiming it was necessary to protect the family from something far worse. He mentioned a cult, dark rituals, and a promise made to an entity he referred to only as "the Shadow."
The more I read, the more I felt an unsettling presence in the house. Shadows seemed to move on their own, and whispers echoed through the halls at night. Determined to understand, I ventured into the basement, where Nathaniel's journals hinted at more hidden secrets.
The basement was damp and cold, the air thick with mildew. Shelves lined with jars of strange substances and dusty books filled the room. At the far end, behind an old trunk, I found a small door. It creaked open to reveal a narrow staircase leading further down into darkness.
With a flashlight in hand, I descended, my heart pounding in my chest. The air grew colder with each step, and a sense of dread settled over me. At the bottom, I found a chamber filled with symbols carved into the stone walls. In the center was an altar, stained with what I could only hope was old wax.
As I examined the room, I found more letters, these from Nathaniel to someone named Margaret. They described rituals performed to keep the Shadow at bay, sacrifices made to ensure the family's prosperity. Nathaniel's last entry was a chilling plea for forgiveness, confessing that he had failed to uphold the pact and that the Shadow was coming for him.
Suddenly, the flashlight flickered and went out. Panic set in as I fumbled to turn it back on. When the light returned, I saw them—figures standing in the shadows, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light. They whispered in unison, a low chant that sent shivers down my spine.
"Blood of the betrayer," they intoned. "Blood of the guilty."
I tried to run, but my legs felt like lead. The figures closed in, their hands cold as ice as they grabbed me. I struggled, but it was no use. They dragged me to the altar, their chanting growing louder.
As they forced me down, I realized the truth: my family had been protecting a dark secret for generations, a secret that had now claimed me. The last thing I saw was a figure stepping out of the shadows, its eyes filled with malevolent glee.
The pain was sudden and all-consuming. My scream echoed through the chamber, blending with the chants. And then, there was nothing but darkness.
The house stood silent once more, its secrets buried deep within its walls. The townspeople still whispered about the old family home, but no one dared to venture inside. They said the shadows moved on their own, and at night, if you listened closely, you could still hear the whispers of the past.
Years passed, and the house remained untouched, a dark mark on the edge of town. Then, one evening, a young couple, unaware of the house’s history, moved in. They had bought the property cheaply, charmed by its antique allure.
Their first night in the house was uneventful. They laughed, unpacked, and made plans to renovate. But as the clock struck midnight, the atmosphere changed. The house seemed to come alive with a malevolent energy. The husband, Peter, heard a faint whispering. At first, he dismissed it as the wind, but the whispers grew louder, forming words.
"Blood of the betrayer... Blood of the guilty..."
He followed the sound to the basement, where the narrow door stood ajar. Against his better judgment, he descended the stairs. The flashlight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The chamber at the bottom was as I had left it, but now there was something new—a fresh inscription on the altar: "He who seeks shall find."
Peter turned to leave, but the shadows moved. Figures emerged, their eyes glowing with the same unnatural light. He screamed for help, but the basement door slammed shut, trapping him inside.
Upstairs, his wife, Emily, heard his screams and rushed to the basement door, but it wouldn't budge. She pounded on it, calling his name, but the house seemed to swallow her cries. Desperation set in, and she ran to the phone, dialing the police.
The police arrived quickly, but as they approached the house, they felt an unnatural chill. Inside, they found Emily, frantic and pale. She led them to the basement, but when they opened the door, the chamber was empty. There was no sign of Peter.
Days turned into weeks, and Peter was never found. Emily moved out, leaving the house abandoned once more. The townspeople spoke of the curse, of the family’s dark past, and warned newcomers to stay away.
But the house never stayed empty for long. Curiosity drew people in, and one by one, they disappeared, claimed by the shadows. The whispers continued, a never-ending chant of betrayal and guilt.
One stormy night, a group of ghost hunters arrived, eager to uncover the house's secrets. They set up their equipment, cameras rolling, as they ventured into the basement. The air was thick with tension, the shadows seemed to watch, waiting.
As they explored the chamber, the leader of the group, Sam, found the old letters. He read them aloud, his voice trembling. The whispers grew louder, the shadows closing in.
"Blood of the betrayer... Blood of the guilty..."
The cameras captured everything—the figures emerging from the darkness, the screams, the terror. But when the footage was reviewed, all that was visible was the empty basement, silent and still. The hunters were never seen again.
Years passed, and the house remained a dark legend. No one dared to enter, the whispers and shadows a constant warning. And yet, on moonless nights, the townspeople could see faint lights flickering in the windows, hear the faint whispers carried on the wind.
It was said that the house was a gateway, a place where the past and present intertwined, where the sins of the ancestors demanded atonement. Those who entered were lost, their souls trapped in a never-ending cycle of horror.
Then, one day, a young historian named James arrived in town. He was fascinated by the stories and determined to uncover the truth. Despite the warnings, he entered the house, armed with his knowledge and a sense of purpose.
He found the letters, the journals, the hidden chamber. But as he delved deeper, he uncovered something no one had seen before—a final letter from Nathaniel, hidden behind a loose brick. It spoke of a ritual to break the curse, to free the trapped souls.
With renewed hope, James prepared for the ritual, following the instructions meticulously. As he began, the house seemed to tremble, the shadows stirring violently. The whispers grew to a deafening roar, but he pressed on.
The final step required a sacrifice, a willing soul to take the place of the cursed. As James completed the ritual, he felt a searing pain. The shadows enveloped him, but he continued to chant the final words.
Suddenly, the whispers stopped. The shadows receded, and the house fell silent. The townspeople, watching from a distance, saw the lights go out and heard a final, blood-curdling scream.
The next morning, they found the house empty. The letters and journals were gone, the chamber sealed. James was never seen again, but the curse seemed to have lifted. The house stood silent, no longer a source of fear.
Years later, the house was sold and renovated. Families moved in and out, but the dark history remained a distant memory. The whispers and shadows were gone, but on stormy nights, the faint echoes of the past could still be heard, a reminder of the darkness that once lurked within.
And so, the legend of the old family home became a story told to children, a cautionary tale of curiosity and the consequences of uncovering secrets best left buried. But some say that on the darkest nights, if you listen closely, you can still hear the faint whisper: "Blood of the betrayer... Blood of the guilty..."

I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

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

(Part 2 out now)
I woke up with a cough of blood and pain. I felt something metal with my hands as I looked down. A long stint of rebar poked out of my ribcage and through my chest plate, covered in a mix of my blood and the bile of a bug.
I reached down and grabbed my Senator, feeling its trusty weight in my hands. I haphazardly tried to place the barrel against the portion of rebar sticking out of my back. This had better work, I thought. I pulled the trigger once and with a loud Crack I felt the vibration from the shot in my stomach. I tried to choke down vomit and pulled the trigger twice more Crack, Crack. With the third shot the rebar gave way and I rolled to my side and collapsed on the ground. Agony shot through my body as I hit the dirt.
I realized then, Hmmph, they left me. During Extraction one of the other divers called in a 500kg as we were about to board Pelican 1. She had thrown it over one of those damned chargers in an effort to kill one last bug but... it started charging us. I was the last one in line and just as I was about to board... i was thrown 200 feet away from extraction site. I don't blame them. I'd have left me too. We had successfully evacuated a number of scientists and other military personnel, but we'd lost the planet. No hard feelings I guess.
I tried to pull my mind away from those thoughts and just focused on one. Survive. I pulled myself to my knees and looked at the rebar again. Cant park there bud, I thought tryna cheer myself up. I had dropped my senator when I fell and ended up with two free hands. I reached down and with the assistance of my servo-assited armor prepared to wrench the rebar from my chest. Alright, count of three, I thought. One my heartrate quickened. Two I adjusted my grip ever so slightly. Three I ripped the metal rod out and felt a hot stinging pain shoot through my body. I quickly grabbed a stim and applied it.
I winced as the stim numbed my broken ribs and began rapidly working to heal them and my open chest wound. After a couple seconds, I could stand.
I took quick stock of my inventory. My Senator with 23 rounds left, two ration packs, a canteen of water, 1 stim, a knife, and a bag of oatmeal. Oatmeal? Seriously? I'd rather have ammo but... beggars can't be choosers.
I looked around me. Snow and beaten down rubble surrounded me. This was some kind of research station, I think. Didn't bother grabbing the name. Cold as hell and nothing really around to get my bearings. Great. I thought. Im gonna die inside a freezer. I started looking through the rubble for anything useful. I found a corpse of one of the scientists that hadn't made it to evac. I grabbed the ID card off his jacket. Figured It'd get me inside a building if there were any left standing. I crawled out of the rubble and onto the snowy tundra.
The sun had set and with it most of the light I would've been able to utilize. I scanned the horizon for a blinking light. Blinking like meant beacon. Beacon meant possible radio, maybe some ammo. I clocked one to the southwest and began walking that direction senator drawn.
I spotted a few distant bug patrols illuminated by moonlight but they had no interest in me. I kept my head down and kept moving towards the light. Details started to take shape and I could see this was a research station. Perfect I thought.
I reached the door and used the key card. There was a Beep and the red light flashed green. The door cracked open before jamming. Oh no you dont, I thought and with one hand yanked the door open. I closed it behind me with the same hand to keep the wildlife disinterested.
Inside was dark and damp. I had lost the seal integrity on my suit so there was barely any oxygen regulation. Didn't need it on this planet but still, it's a bitch to fix. I turned my flashlight on and started scanning the room for a light switch. I found one but wouldn't ya know it... dead. At least the beacon had power. I walked over to the radio and pulled off my helmet. I wedged the flashlight in my neck and leaned my head to the side. I started flipping switches and turning dials to see if there was a response. Nothing. Id have to find the master terminal. I grabbed the flashlight and donned my helmet again. I began scanning the room again before I heard it. A little shuffle behind me. I turned quickly and drew my senator raising it at the source of the sound.
It was a small child. At least... thats what it appeared to be. At first glance I could see bindings on its legs and arms. A hospital gown with little ducklings on it and a teddy bear tucked under its arm. I lowered my senator as it spoke.
"Dr. Mehon told me to wait here. He said hed be right back."
Dr. Mehon was probably dead I thought. I knelt down and put my hand on the child's shoulder. "Whats your name kid?"
"3". I felt a rage build up. I swallowed it quickly.
"Well 3, what uh... why.. why do you have bin.." I stopped myself. Whatever those scientists were doing here...
3 looked up at me and I noticed it. A cat like set of eyes. Other little details started to click as well. Four fingers on each hand, slightly pointed ears, a discoloration of skin and a rigid scale-like spine on the shoulder.
"The radio doesnt work mister." 3 seemed to have understood their situation. "Dr Mehon destroyed it before he left."
I realized then that it was unlikely either of us would make it off this planet alive.
EDIT: Part 2 out now! (Part 2's a lil shorter) I Didnt think itd get this many upvotes and comments. Ill keep writing then. Feel free to suggest names for 3!

34 AFAB 183lbs 5'4"
For the past 6-7 weeks, I've been dealing with what my PCP diagnosed as Candida Albicans infection. It started around the anal area. It has now moved to the entire genital area (vaginal and anal), under both arms, inside and outside my right ear, my stomach, neck, and face [also, both forearms, top of the right hand, , and moving down both upper thighs]. I've taken 4 doses of Fluconazole and treat with Nystatin cream twice a day. I'm taking daily showers or a 15-20 minute bath with Domeboro soak. Nothing is working, I'm in extreme pain, and I would appreciate some guidance.
Other relevant information:
Pregnancy w/ vaginal birth 12 years ago.
PCOS w/ metabolic syndrome and insulin resistance 7 years ago. Taking 1500 MG Metformin daily.
GSHV2 9 years ago. Taking 500 MG Valtrex daily.
Depression/Anxiety. Taking Lexapro.
ADHD-Inattentive. Taking 40 MG Vyvanse.
Other supplements: Magnesium glyconate (sleep), prenatal multivitamin (low Vitamin D and Iron in the past).
Former cigarette smoker. Current vape user.
No new sexual partners in the last 5 years. No new soaps, detergents, etc.
The amount of pain I'm in is just miserable. I've been trying to follow my PCP's instructions to the letter, but nothing is working. I can barely walk around my house at this point and it's interfering with my job and being able to take care of my kid who was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes this past year and may have celiac's disease. I may just be impatient to have this clear up and I know my PCP has given what's considered the gold standard for Candida skin infections. I'll be talking to her on Monday about seeing a dermatologist.
My questions:
Has anyone seen this situation in their practice before?
What are the next steps usually taken?
How can I stop it from spreading further?
Is there any possibility the infection could have gotten into my bloodstream (I started having headaches, chills, fatigue, abnormal amount of gas, and dizziness w/in the last 3 days)?
Is there some way to get some relief or speed up the healing process?
Are there any best practices for this type of infection besides keeping it clean, dry, and medicated?
Would anything described warrant a trip to the ER (asking bc my partner has been very worried about me and has mentioned it several times)?
Thank you for any feedback.
Edit: Formatting since I'm on mobile and additional observations from tonight's bathing and applying medicated cream included in [ ].

Hi everyone,
Recently got diagnosed with moderate to severe MVR during my annual 2D echo. Less than a year ago, and during previous years, I had been mild. I was pretty shocked. The 2D echo was supposed to just be routine monitoring for my ASD repair. I have mitral valve prolapse though.
I have next to no symptoms, except maybe for left chest pain that my cardio attributes to my GERD. I'm fairly fit and play recreational tennis at least thrice a week.
I was prescribed Perondopril as maintenance meds that I have to take indefinitely. Doc thinks my MVR is closer to moderate than severe. She also thinks I won't be needing surgery as long as I stick to the meds and that my MVR doesn't progress to severe category.
Has anyone lived through moderate to severe MVR without having surgery? And has there been an instance when moderate to severe can get downgraded to mild?
Just really anxious because I'd rather not have open heart surgery again after having ASD repair back in my childhood.
Thank you!

I've been dealing with what was initially diagnosed as asthma after inhaling toxic fumes from heated Motul 300V POWER 5W40 motor oil from the exhaust system of a Subaru we were working on back on March 19, 2019. This caused severe symptoms like excess mucus and a drowning sensation. Recently, my doctor has diagnosed it as Reactive Airways Dysfunction Syndrome (RADS). I also have asthma and allergic rhinitis. Motul 300V POWER 5W40 contains several components that can be hazardous when inhaled: lubricating oils (petroleum, C20-50, hydrotreaded neutral oil-based) 10-25%, mineral oil 1-2.5%, distillates (petroleum, solvent-dewaxed heavy paraffinic) 1-2.5%, and C14-16-18 alkyl phenol <1%. These components can release harmful fumes when heated, leading to respiratory irritation and other health issues.
After the exposure, I underwent several tests in April 2019 to assess the impact on my respiratory health. The arterial blood gas (ABG) test on April 4, 2019, showed normal acid-base status with a pH of 7.415, pCO2 of 40.2 mmHg, and pO2 of 89.8 mmHg, with oxygen saturation at 97.1%, indicating no immediate respiratory failure but highlighting the need for further assessment. The pulmonary function test (PFT) with post-bronchodilator study on April 4, 2019, showed normal spirometry results with no obstructive ventilatory defect noted. The FEV1/FVC ratio was within normal limits, and there was no significant response to bronchodilators, suggesting that the primary issue was not related to airflow obstruction. The chest X-ray on April 2, 2019, showed some degree of haziness in the right lower lung, which could be due to vascular shadows or beginning/resolving infiltrates, with no consolidation observed. My recent chest X-ray shows all clear, indicating that any previous abnormalities have resolved, suggesting no current radiographic signs of lung disease or persistent inflammation.
On May 10, 2024, I cut my Symbicort dosage from 2 puffs AM and PM to 1 puff each. I felt good after missing my dose on May 16, 2024, so I reduced it to 1 puff a day. As of May 17, 2024, I'm off Symbicort completely. During a Stryd run test meant to last 10 minutes, I ended at 4:40. No wheezing, headache, or chest tightness—just felt out of breath and had some phlegm, but didn’t need to use Symbicort. Regular use of POWERbreathe has really strengthened my respiratory muscles. I'm successfully managing asthma without daily Symbicort, keeping symptoms in check. Overall, I'm feeling better with improved breathing and less reliance on meds. Using the POWERbreathe IMT device has been a game-changer for me. It’s allowed me to reduce and eventually stop using Symbicort. My respiratory muscles are stronger, and my asthma is under control.
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RADS - Reactive Airways Dysfunction Syndrome

• Definition: RADS is a condition that resembles asthma but is distinct from it. It occurs after a single, high-level exposure to an irritating substance, such as fumes, chemicals, or smoke. This exposure leads to acute and chronic respiratory symptoms. • Relation to Asthma: While RADS presents with symptoms similar to asthma (such as coughing, wheezing, and shortness of breath), it is not classified as a type of asthma. Instead, it is a specific syndrome triggered by an acute exposure event, whereas asthma is typically a chronic condition with multiple potential triggers. 

Correct Description
RADS - Reactive Airways Dysfunction Syndrome

• Definition: A condition that occurs after a single, high-level exposure to an irritating substance, leading to asthma-like symptoms such as coughing, wheezing, and shortness of breath. • Relation to Asthma: While it has symptoms similar to asthma, RADS is distinct and is specifically triggered by a one-time exposure to an irritant, unlike chronic asthma which can have multiple and ongoing triggers. 

This distinction is important for understanding the nature of RADS and how it differs from chronic asthma.

Exhausted and just need to vent. I've been having debilitating period pains (vomiting, passing out) since I was 15. I'm now 33. I've had multiple hospital visits and ultrasounds. No diagnosis but I'm pretty sure it's endometrios. I've never been given another explanation for what could cause this much pain every month. I've been told my choices are go on the pill or continue to "manage" with pain medication (prescription codeine which makes me nauseous every month and sometimes isn't even effective). I've been told by a doctor that, unless I am trying to get pregnant and have trouble conceiving after 1 year, they won't do a laparoscopy. My GP and multiple people have told me "it will get better when you have a baby." I do want to have a child one day but I shouldn't need to do that to stop experiencing excruciating pain. Also there is no evidence that childbirth alleviates severe dysmenorrhoea. I'm thinking of just saving up and getting a laparoscopy done privately.
Anyway, I'm just really, really tired of this disabling pain taking 2 days out of my life every month. If anyone has any tips on anything at all that might help with the pain, please share. My diet, exercise, and stress management are all very good. At the moment I need mefanemic acid and codeine combined to get through a period.

Hi, this is gonna be a bit long, but let me explain the entire situation so far: Going back about a year or so, I started noticing an elevated heart rate above what I usually would have. I have an apple watch that allows me to check my heart rate, and around this time I started to get notifications that my heart rate was above average (in the 120s to 130s range while resting as opposed to my normal 60-80 range). This happened a few times along with some very minor chest pain / tightness, however after laying down for a few hours / going to bed it would usually return to normal. Around the same time I got diagnosed with anxiety and ADHD and placed on an SSRI to help my anxiety after trying ADHD meds and not liking them. I never really had any incidents with high heart rate after that, so I had assumed it was just anxiety causing it (and that may still be the case). A few months went by and I ended up starting college and got myself a girlfriend. As I ended up finding out, SSRIs, while great, have the unfortunate side effect of erectile dysfunction, so I weaned off my meds so I could prioritize my love life. There were a few incidents after this where my heart rate was above average, but again I just chalked this up to anxiety, as it would usually go away on its own. At one point I went into my on campus doctor's office just to verify my heart was okay after an elevated heart rate the night before, and they gave me an EKG which came up clear. Months go by, and things are fine, besides a slight uptick in anxiety. Unfortunately however, my relationship began to crumble and my anxiety skyrocketed, and we eventually broke up, which led me to talking to my doctor and getting placed back on anxiety medication. However, I really didn't like how SSRI's impacted my libido, so after trying a few more SSRI's I was placed on Buspirone. I love Buspirone, and it's made a noticeable difference on my confidence / reducing anxiety. When I take my full dose at once (30 mg), I tend to get a bit dizzy / nauseous, however when split up into 10 mg taken at breakfast lunch and dinner I have no noticeable side effects. I will say (and I don't know if this is in any way important but I'm just naming everything possible), I have noticed that since stopping the SSRIs and starting Buspirone I tend to ejaculate VERY fast which is abnormal for me, and although I would like to fix that it is not my main concern. Moving on though, after about a month or two after being placed on Buspirone, we get to where my heart problems start. As someone who had never used any substances my entire life, leaving home and going to college gave me the freedom to try new things, and although I know it's not great, on weekends me and my friends will get together and drink or occasionally smoke weed / take an edible. I was worried at first about interactions with my medication, but after some research all anything online could tell me was that I may get drunk faster / more nauseous and dizzy, which wasn't too big of a deal for me. I had tried weed earlier in college and didn't like the way it made me feel, however after being placed on Buspirone I decided to try it again and actually enjoyed the feeling, so I started doing it more on the weekends as opposed to just drinking, which leads us to the incident. Me and some friends had just sat down to watch a movie, and all taken an edible. Time passed, and I started to notice that my heart rate was extremely elevated, way more than I was usually used to. I checked my heart rate, and found that my watch was displaying an average of 160 bpm. At first I thought I was just having a bad high and tried to calm myself. I laid on the floor and put some ice on my forehead, but nothing was helping. I checked my heart rate again and saw that my watch was displaying 190, which really freaked me out as that was way higher than I had ever seen before. I had my sober friend call Public Safety for me, and they came to my dorm room and did a basic check up on me. They said that I had a fever, and when they took my heart rate they got something in the 160s range. Their explanation was that my anxiety, when combined with being high and likely being sick made my heart rate elevated, which made sense at the time. I went into my college's health services to follow up the next day since my heart rate was still elevated (in the 120s-130s range), however they again told me it was probably just anxiety. A few days went by and my heart rate was STILL above average, so I decided to double check with my real doctor off campus. About a day before this I had also stopped taking my medication to see if it could be the cause for my elevated heart rate. The doctors took my vitals and immediately noticed that had very high blood pressure and an elevated heart rate, to the point where they sent in a second doctor to recheck my vitals and make sure it was correct. After talking to me and having me give a run down of my symptoms, they had me schedule an appointment with a cardiologist and told me that if I ever experience chest pain and a heart rate above 100 bpm that wouldn't go down to go to the hospital. I had also told them about how I stopped taking my medication and they told me that that was fine and to tell the cardiologist about it. About a week passes, and I have my cardiologist appointment in a few days. I had been up the night before working on my final exams, so I hadn't gotten much sleep, and besides a breakfast sandwich that I had for lunch I hadn't eaten much either. I had been experiencing chest pain all day, but I assumed it was being caused by my lack of sleep, so after classes I went and took a nap. After a few hours I woke up, and immediately noticed that I still had chest pain. I checked my apple watch, and my heart rate was displaying roughly 90-110 bpm while laying down, which on top of the chest pain made me worried since my doctor had told me that that was cause to go to the hospital. I called my parents to tell them about it, and they drove to the school and had me sit in the car and eat some food they had made to see if it would help at all. However, even after this, my heart rate was still above 100 bpm and I still had chest pain, so my mom made the call to bring me to the hospital. While on the way to the hospital, out of nowhere my heart rate increased to about 170-180 bpm, which freaked me out. We arrived at the hospital, and they immediately gave me an EKG to make sure I wasn't going to drop dead. During this time, I also was shaking a lot and couldn't make myself stop. Eventually they took me into a room and decided to run some tests on me. The tests they did are as follows: BASIC METABOLIC PANEL, CBC WITH DIFF, TROPONIN NH, D DIMER DEEP VEIN THROMB LEVEL, TSH REFLEX, X-RAY CHEST PA AND LATERAL, and ECG-12 LEAD. While I'm not a doctor, from what they told me and from what I can see, everything turned up pretty normal. My potassium was a smidge low, as well as my MCV and MPV, and my Monocyte (absolute) was a tad high, but generally nothing to worry about. The website where I'm viewing my test results display my ECG as abnormal and an attached document says I have left atrial enlargement as well as sinus tachycardia, but they only mentioned sinus tachycardia in the hospital so I assume that it was just the machine reading my test results and giving its own diagnosis. Long story short though, I left the hospital a few hours later, and although I still had a slightly elevated heart rate they said I was fine to go about life normally and to follow up with my cardiologist. Cut to the present, and I just met with my cardiologist a couple days ago. I gave him the general rundown of the above story (but didn't mention the edible as a precursor to the 190 bpm heartrate as my mom was in the next room over and the door was wide open), and after checking my vitals he told me that although I did have an elevated heart rate and high blood pressure, my chest pain probably wasn't a huge concern and that he wasn't too worried it was anything life threatening. He told me I could resume taking my meds (which I had temporarily replaced with ashwagandha supplements while I waited for the appointment and have since stopped taking), and had me wear a little device that monitored my heart rate for 24 hours, which I'm set to return in a couple days. He also told me that when I returned it he would check my results and give me an echocardiogram and go from there. So, with any luck, he should be able to figure things out then. However, I wanted to post this to see if anyone could help me get any ideas on what it could be that I could run by him to help speed things up. I also have a recent theory of my own that I want to hear advice on. I was doing research and discovered that Buspirone, when taken with other medication that increases serotonin, can cause serotonin syndrome. After another google search, I found out that weed can increase serotonin levels. The only hole in that theory is that I stopped taking Buspirone after the initial spike in heart rate / blood pressure but had no noticeable changes. Another theory I have is that it could be some form of dysautonomia, as I fit many of those symptoms. Oh and one last thing, if you can't think of anything in regards to what could be causing my elevated heart rate, I actually would like to know why I'm ejaculating so fast so I can fix it because its gotten to the point where I can't even enjoy masturbating because of how fast I cum.
In case I missed anything, here's a list of my symptoms (although I have no idea if they're all correlated):

• High heart rate (anywhere from 90-190 bpm)
• High blood pressure
• Chest pain / tightness on my left side and does not hurt more when I breath in / out (every now and then pain extends to my neck and shoulder)
• Frequently tired
• Insomnia (could be correlated with the above symptom lol)
• Get out of breath faster than usual
• Anxiety (already had this though)
• Mild depression (probably from my breakup)
• Lack of motivation (probably from my ADHD)
• Very rare and random spasms in my neck
• About 10 pounds weight loss in the past few months
• Headaches (could be from the meds)
• Sexual Dysfunction (extremely fast orgasm)
• Probably something minor that I'm forgetting but if I can't think of it it probably isn't important (will update this list if new symptoms arise)

TLDR: I have a high heart rate and blood pressure and can't figure out why

I had a TOA a few months ago and was hospitalized and on antibiotics and ultimately had to have drains placed. I had a follow up ultrasound two weeks after drain removal and the one side looked good but the other side they couldn’t even see my ovary on the ultrasound and the abscess wasn’t much smaller. I have random mild pains in my pelvis. My doctor ordered repeat imaging in 3 months and when I reported the pain they just said continue to monitor for signs of infection such as severe pain, fever, etc. Has anyone else had a TOA drained and recovered without surgery? Is some random pelvic pain normal during healing? I am interested in hearing other’s experiences.