Symptoms feeling cold headache swelling rash

I'm on amoxicillin for a tooth that needs a root canal. We're waiting for my state insurance to approve the procedure and in the meantime I'm just suffering.
Today I woke up feeling like the whole right side of my cheek had been numbed. I felt it all the way down to my neck and shoulder. Is that normal? It's freaking me out and I've been having increased anxiety over these symptoms while I wait for approval. I've been taking 400mg ibuprofen daily for any pain on the jaw, but in return it's been giving me rebound headaches. I don't want to take ibuprofen because my head feels awful when I take some.
When I first got the x ray done, the dentist didn't put me on any antibiotics. So I'm trying to convince myself the infection is not that bad. He only gave me antibiotics a week later because I said I could feel the sore feeling up to my eye and down to my neck. I have to believe that my body is just fighting this infection and that if it was initially as bad as I'm thinking it to be, the dentist would've taken other measures. The first time I had a bad infection I was put on amoxicillin and prednisone (a steroid). I remember being nervous back then and asking if a toothache could spread to your heart and brain and the dentist said it was a very, very slim chance even with how bad my infection was.
But my anxiety wasn't nearly as bad back then as it is now. I don't know, maybe I'm overreacting, but I just want to get this tooth done with. Has anyone had a similar situation with an infected tooth with similar symptoms? I'm hoping to get my approval this week, that way we can do the root canal in one go. Otherwise, I'm just going in for a removal and temporary filling. I need to deal with this.

25M, 5'10 220 lbs (slightly overwright), non-smoker.
To preface, I have recently been getting treated for some chest pains I had over the last year. Dr. says it's some acid reflux so ive been taking pepcid 20mg twice daily as of about a month ago. Id had a couple nights were the reflux was bad before getting the medicine where my throat was burning and I was coughing a bit. Occasionally now though I start to taste a bit of blood, usually without any coughing and then I'll suddenly feel like I need to clear my throat. This has led me to try and spit out mostly clear saliva or white mucus, but sometimes there's a little blood. Typically stops within 10 minutes and doesn't seem to be triggered by anything in particular. This morning I sneezed and got the feeling and had more blood in the mucus than I normally do, it lasted 30ish minutes. Usually it's very minimal spots of blood here and there. This time it wasn't more than a teaspoon by any means but definitely more than the past. I have a followup for reflux in a couple months, should I schedule another visit because of this? I had an x-ray feb 2023 because I went to the ER for chest pains and they said everything looked good then. Is it possible for things like lung cancer to develop in that the time since then? 15 months? I'm not having issues breathing, no weight-loss, no pain when it happens. Haven't had chest pain like I went into the ER for since then. I'm not currently showing any cold symptoms, I did get 3 short colds within the first 3 months of this year, but I was traveling a bit around the US and in Spain. Any thoughts? I cant attach a photo here but DM me if it'd help.

THE 2000 YEAR OLD MAN (1975) - FULL TRANSCRIPT 2000 Year Old Man is an old Brooks-Reiner comedy routine turned into a half-hour animated TV special. Reiner, a TV reporter, interviews Brooks, a man claiming to be 2000 years old. The interview consists of a serious of questions regarding the history of the world. Brooks' answers to Reiner's questions are priceless.
About four days ago a plane landed at Idlewild Airport.
The plane came from the Middle East bearing a man who claims to be
2000 years old.
He spent the last six days at the Mayo Clinic.
Ei, sir.
Sir, is it true that you are 2000 years old?
Oh boy.
-Yes. -You are?
It's hard to believe sir because
in the history of man nobody has ever lived more than 167 years
wich a man from Peru claimed to be.
But you claim to be 2000?
I'll be, not yet. I'll be 2000, October 16th.
You will be 2000. When were you born?
We didn't have formal years and names and writing.
We didn't know. I see.
Nobody kept time.
See, we didn't know.
We didn't write. We just sat around, pointed in the sky
and said wow hot there wow.
-That's all they said? -We didn't even know it was the sun.
You really didn't know anything.
Anything, we were so dumb.
We didn't know who was a lady.
-But they were... -They were with us.
But we didn't know who they was
we didn't know who was the ladies and who was fellows.
You thought they were just different type of fellows.
Yes, stronger or smaller or softer.
The softer ones I think was the ladies all the time.
What about that? How did you find out?
Well, they are cute, a fat guy,
could you could have mistaken him,
soft and cute.
Who is the person who discovered the female?
Bernie.
Who was Bernie?
Bernie, one of the first leaders of our group.

• And he discovered the female?
• Yeah.
  
• How did that happen?
  
• Ladies, ladies here.
  

I'm very interested to find out how Bernie discovered the woman.
-Well, he... -How did he come to find?
One morning
he got up smiling. So he said:
I think there is ladys here.
I said, well, what do you mean, you know?
He said: 'cause in the night.
I was swelled and delighted, see?
So he went into such a story that
it's hundreds of years later, I still blush.
Could you give us the secret of your longevity?
Well, the major thing.
The major thing.
Is that I never, ever touch ripe food.
I don't eat it.
I wouldn't look at it and I don't touch it.
And and I never run for a bus.
There's always another.
Even if even if you're late for work.
You know, I never run for a bus.
I never ran.
I just stroll, jump it, slowly walk to the next bus...
Yeah, well but there were no buses at the time.

• No, in my... -Right.

In my time ahnn...
What was the means of transportation then?
-Mostly fear.
-Fear transported you? -Fear yes.
You could see.
A lion, he would would growl, you would go two miles a minute.
I'd like to find out about some social customs
the origination of social customs.
For instance, singing how that started?
Oh it stems from fear.
-Could you explain? -Because in the old days,
I said old days.
I don't mean the georgian cars.
-Did you.. -I mean rocks and caves...
I'm asking you, sir, how song...
Some song came about when you really had to communicate.
-But in trouble you couldn't say help. -Yes.
But have to use your mouth.
Yes, I know.
Hello.
-I mean, I wouldn't say help, I say good morning.
Yes. You're really...
you know you in trouble.

• But somebody said eeeh eeeeh. -That was the first song.
  
• I don't know.
  
• In other words, fear, right?
  

I was singing.
We thought happiness did.
Oh, and the song came out of it.
A lion is eating my foot off.
Somebody call a cop.
A lion is eating my foot off.
Somebody call a cop.
A lion is eating my foot off.
Somebody call a cop.
A lion is eating my foot of
Somebody call a cop.
Very interesting to hear the derivation of songs
The first songs,
the first songs were all the anthem songs.
We always thought...
We always thought...
Wanna hear an anthem song?
You had an anthem song?
We had a national anthem.
-What was the anthem? -Well, ah...
you see, was only fragment...
-Fragment? -It wasn't a nation.
-Yes. -It was cave, each cave. Yes.
Each cave had a national anthem.
You remember the national anthem of your cave?
Ok. I say I'll never forget it.
You don't forget a national anthem in a minute.
Let them go to the hell
except cave 76.
For instance, how did the custom of two people shaking hands
how the handshake come to be?
The handshake? As you know...
I don't, that's why I'm asking!
The handshake has also stemmed from fear.

• Everything seems to stem from fear.
• Of course.

Everything we do is based on fear.
-Even love? -Mainly love.
How can love stem from fear?
How can love stem from fear?
What do you need a woman for?
You know what you need for?
-In my time? -Yes.
To see if an animal is behind yourself,
you had to get eyes in the back of your head.
you take two eyes that is to be a lady.
I see.
You say, lady, you look behind me for a while.
And that was the first... the first marriages.
What if you take a look behind me ok?
How long you want?Forever, we are married.
You walked back to back to the rest of your life?
Yes. You only look at her once in a while,
when you knew you it was safe?
When I knew I was in a highground.
-The handshakes they started how?
-They started to see if the fellow had a rock
or a dagger in his hand.
Where is you hand? Hi, Charlie.
How you're doing Jumpy, where is you hand?
Then you open it and you look...
And you shook another one.
And that's the way the handshakes started.
Yes, the shake.
May have a stone or a marble to stick in your eye.
In the older days
you should get a snap and all.
How the dancing started?
-Dancing is the same thing. -Fear again?
Just fear. The only thing you could do with a hand
was to see if there was a rock or a marble
or rubber band or nail or something that would stick in your head.
Right. Ok.
But while imobilizing my hand
dancing gets to complete the imobilization.
Dance and keep the feet busy so he can't get you.
Yes, but I think most people are interested
in living a long and fruitful life.
-You mentioned? -Fruit is good food, you mentioned.
Fruit kept me going for 140 years once
when I... was on a very strict diet,
mainly nectarines, I love that fruit
half a peach, half a plum, such a hell of a fruit.
It's not too cold
Not too hot, you know, just nice.
-What if... -A rotten one?
That's how much I love. I'd rather eat a rotten nectarine than a fine plum.
-What do you think about? -I can understand that.
Yes, that's how much I love them.
-Yes, I can understand, sir. -Some good things.
What did you do for a living?
Well, many years ago, thousands.
There was no heavy industry.
We know that.
Most things that we manufactured or we made,
most things we ever made,
was we would make a take a piece of wood
and rub it, rub it and rub it and rub it
then clean it and look at it and hit right with it
and hit a tree with it.
-For what purpose? -Just to keep busy.
There was not. There was absolutely nothing to do, had no job.
What other jobs were there?
Must've been something else besides hitting a tree with
the knowledge, hitting a tree with a
piece of stick was already a good job.
You couldn't get that job.
Mainly was sitting and looking in the sky
was a big job
and another job was watching each other.
-And what language did you speak? -They spoke...
-Rock, basic rock. -Years before Hebrew.
Yes. 200 years before Hebrew was the rock language, the rock talk.
Could you give us an example of that?
Hey, you don't put that rock on me.
Hey, what you do with the rock?
Do you remember you remember your Hebrew sir?
Yes, I would just I think I remember fluent...
Because I understand the modern Hebrew is different from the...

• Yes. The difference in some of the

-phonetic alliteration paterns. -Yes.
Can we hear an example of the ancient Hebrew?
A very ancient Hebrew is...
Oh, hi there, hello.
Hello there. How are you.
-Hi. How are you. -That's English.
-Oh wait, wait. -You remember any Hebrew?
Very little.
I don't think I remember.
I must have forgot a great deal of it.
-I think you forgot it all. -Maybe all, yes.
Maybe all. Thousands of years since I needed it.
Now, sir, did you ever...
Did you ever have any formal job as we know it today?
Yeah, well, I was a manufacturer. I was owner.
What kind of a factory did you have?
I had a I used to make the star of David, Jew stars.
Making a little money?
Where's that? Yeah.
Soon as religion came in, I was one of the first in that.
I figured this was a good thing.
How did you make them? Did you have tools?
Well, we didn't have a lady.
I employed six men each with a point.
They used to run together in the middle of the factory
A great speed, it was huge.
They were making a star.
Yes. We would make two a day because of the many accidents.
Six men running and... you know.
Lots of accidents.
You never thought of going into anything else?
Oh, no, I had an offer once.
-It came to me. Simon. -What Simon asked you to do?
Said he had a new thing, a new item,
a winner, looks like a winning item.
That was gonna be a big seller is called a cross.
And I looked at it and I turned it over
and looked in all sides of it
and I said, it's simple. It's too simple.
I didn't know then. Element.
-I didn't know with such a -You turned him down?
and I said, I'm sorry, but I'm too busy.
See, I could have I could have fired four men,
two men run together, bang, that is a cross.
Would say that I would I would have earned
over a hundred dollars doing that crosses and everything.
Yes, certainly.
Do you have a few moments, sir?
What do you mean? Money or the time.
No, we have to cut way for messages now.
-Okay, let's do it. Is it in English? -Yes.
By the way, sir, are you married?
I have been married several hundred times.
-Several hundred times? -Yes.
You haven't, man. Do you remember all your wives?
-One I remember well. -Which one was that?
The five one, Shyla.
I remeber her well.
I'm afraid to ask the next question, you had many hundreds of wives...
-Hundreds and hundreds. -But how many children you have?
I have over forty two thousand children.
And not one comes to visit me.
It's awful, sir
well, sir, it's really you mean to say there isn't one daughter...
there's many daughters, but, but they
you know how they are, children.
Good luck to them, let them go.
I don't want listen, let them be happy as long they're happy
I don't care. But they could send a note
write how're you Pop how you're doing Pop
you know, they don't.
Sir... ahn, you must have known
some great men in your time, you did travel to...
I knew the greater and the near greater.
Can I ask you about some of these...
Certainly, I'll tell you the true
the true whether I knew or not.
For instance, people are people are
very interested in somebody like Joan of Arc.
A lot has been written about her, we read a lot...
Aah what a kiss.
You knew Joan of Arc?
I went for her, damn it, I went for her.
Nowhere in history do we know of Joan going with it anybody.
Well, they don't print everything.
You did marry her? No.
No. I didn't marry her because she was on a mission.
she used to say to me
she used to say to me, I've got to save France.
I should say I look.
I've got to wash up. You save France.
See you later after you save France. I'll wash up, you know.
-How did you... -Hold it, I... yet.
How did you feel about her being burned at the stake?
Terrible.
I didn't I didn't know.
Sir, how about some of the legendary characters
who supposedly might have existed?
For instance, Robin Hood.
-Did he...? -Oh, yeah. Lovely man.
Ran around in the forest.
Did he really steal from the rich and give to the poor?
No, he didn't.
He stole from everybody and kept everything.
Out of the legend?
Out of the legend let's bring up that
he had a fellow monk, hired a press agent
running all the paper and roll and scroll.
He takes from the rich and gives to the poor, who knew?
You knew you took such a knock in the head
when he robbed you wouldn't knock him down.
-In other words... -A tough guy.
I hate to have our legendary figures smashed
Well, I hate do smashing for you.
So much to discuss, for instance,
-somebody like William Shakespeare -Oh what a pussycat.
-You are saying that you knew -A pussycat.
You did know it, for instance
Oh, that little beard, that cute hair...
He was reputed,
I guess you are agreeing that he was the greatest writer of all times.
Oh no, hey, hold up he was small.
What you mean? You just said he was great.
-Oh boy!
-And I said he was great... -No sir.
A cute man and a pussycat.
William Shakespeare was not a great writer?
Not good writer at all.
He wrote 37 of the greatest.
Shakespeare was not a good writer, no.
He wrote 37 of the greatest.
Would you ever see the original the first folios?
You mean they were edited by someone else?
Never mind the edit, did you see the folios?
No, I never saw them. Did you see?
I saw that folios, your wanna see how they are?
A blast...
A 'm' you know that look like a 'D'
an 'M' didn't look like an 'M'
I know that is a 'V'
Every letter was cockeyed and crazy.
Don't tell me he was a good writer.
The worst printmanship I ever saw in my life.
What he did? He did as it was reputed,
he did write 37 of the greatest plays of...
-38! -I only know 37.
Would you care to look at this list sir?
These items are listed come down to the ages.
-You know one that should be there? -Yes.
What's that?
Queen Alexandra and Morris.
Is there any copy of this unexistent?
This is a play that I put invested money in.
Probably the only one that didn't come to light.
Come to light and closed in Egypt.
Sir, you remember...
you remember any of the dialogue of Queen Alexandra and Morris?
Queen Alexandra turn to Morris and said:
Oh, Morris. What could it have been that I have seen?
Is it not in my marrow or we not have one on ourselves?
And he would say to her:
What are you hollering?
What are you hollering?
-Sir, what... -Wake up the whole castle, you know.
Sir, what did you do 2000 years ago to entertain...
-Walk and wing. -I want to know wether...
-Were there comedians -Oh sure sure, we had.
You remember any of the... 2,000 years ago...
A matter of days, let me see.
I remember one comedian gave us some laughs
while we were hysterical.
Well, who is he? Some good laughs.
Murray the Nut. He gave us a laugh.
A tiger came in the cave one afternoon.
Soothed in uninvited naturally.
Nobody asked how a tiger did walk in.
Tiger came in and Murray, you know, the joker
the tumbling, you know, the Nut
jumps at and grabs the tiger by the tail
yahaa, yahaa, yahaa...
and the tiger turn around and ate him in a minute.
and we get histerical laughing and laughing.
Best joke we ever had.
Oh sir, that's not very funny.
That was all we have, our chaos then that was all we have.
Terrible, I would consider that...
Have to pass me out, Murray took the tiger.
-That was entertainment? -Yes.
I would consider that in the realm of tragedy rather than comedy.
It's a point of view, to me tragedy is... is
if I cut my finger, that's tragedy.
It clinch and I cry and I run around
and I go into Mount Sinai for a day and a half.
I'm very nervous about.
And to me comedy is if you walk into an open sewer
and die, I like that.
Comedy I say.
-My finger is important. -Yes
In the 2000 years you've lived, you've seen a lot of items.
Certainly.
What is the biggest change you've seen?
In two thousand years the greatest thing mankind ever devised
I think in my humble opinion is saran wrap.
You can put a sandwich in it.
You can look through it. You can touch
you can put over your face and fool around and everything.
It's so cool you could wrap up
-You would ate it? -I love it,
put three olives in it and put a little one.
can put ten sandwiches and make up this.
-Whatever you want, It's clean and it sticks with.
-You equate this with... -You can look right through.
You equate this with man's discovery of space?
That was good, that was good.
-Sir, we ah... -Yes, yes.
We have to take time out for message now.
Why do you have to take time out?
You take the message, I'll keep talking.
That was a good message.
Well, sir, if we don't have too much more time
but we all here would like to know your code.
Well, alright, is this it?
A farewell? -A farewell address.
Hello there. This is 2000 years talking to you
from the depths of back there when we was
now I'm still and they not and I just want to say
keep your smile on your face.
And stay out of a Ferrari
or any small Italian car.
stay out of them. I wanna tell you that it's been
it's been a wonderful two thousand years
and you've been a wonderful civilization
and it's been a thrill living for 2,000 years
and eat a nectarine, is the best food ever made.

Heartbreak.
That’s what got me, well, out of my funk. In a sense, at least. I was in a rut. Knew it. She did too. Guess we were in a rut, really. Ran its course. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell, but, well, sometimes stories end, you know?
So I did my piece. Curled up into the fetal position and fucking bawled. Days went by. Go to work. Go home. A zombie. Drank a lot more. But time wore down the edges eventually. And one day, I said “fuck it.” Packed my car, quit my job, and fucked off across the country. That was the plan anyway. Heading home. Maybe with my tail between my legs. I wasn’t sure.
It was a long drive. From the West Coast to the depths of the Midwest. From the shimmering, golden shores to undulating, aureate waves of grain. Radio stations fading in and out. Long stretches of static. Data dropping fucking everywhere. Sometimes I twisted through the AM band. Hellfire and brimstone. Vast conspiracies that always lacked imagination. What happened the fun stuff? Lizard people. Time travelers. Area 51. Not anymore. Everything’s a fucking angle. Propaganda. Switch it off.
I took a long way. Choosing county routes over the interstate. I had time to kill, so why not? Might as well see some of this country. The back parts. Dark parts. Quiet parts. Flyover parts. The “you don’t see anyone other than the locals and lost” and kinda parts. And I guess I was lost, right? In a sense. Though, I was hoping I wouldn’t become physically so. God knows I didn’t need to slip through the cracks of the Earth somewhere out near Kearney, Nebraska.
But things did get strange–shouldn’t that be expected out in these less-traveled places, though?--somewhere around Sheldon, South Dakota. I was at a rest stop, pulled over for a break, trying to get the last Clif bar to break free of the piece of shit vending machine, when I saw a black semi roll up.
Now, when I saw black, I mean completely. Utterly. Entirely. A pitch black cab with tinted black windows pulling a matching black trailer. Even the rims were black. It stood out like a oozing sludge against the golden, baked landscape. I stood there, by the vending machine, waiting for a while to see who would emerge. Of course I was curious. BUt…no one did. It just sat there–this beast of a vehicle–idling. I figured the driver must have been pulling over to take a nap or to call it quits from his shift–they can only drive so long, right? But you’d think they’d want to step out and stretch their legs.
Eventually, I managed to hit the plastic of the machine just right to free my Clif bar. I tore it open, took a bite, and returned to my car. Back on the road. I had places to be.
It was strange, though. I kept seeing the black truck after that. It passed me–somehow–on the highway a few dozen miles from the rest stop. But I caught up, a few miles outside of Sioux City. I passed right alongside it, my eyes straining to see who was driving. Naturally, the windows were tinted too and I couldn’t see a damn thing. I just couldn’t put it out of my mind. Such an odd sight. This big, beastly, pitch black truck barreling across the dull Midwest. It didn’t even have any markings. No company logo. No indication of what it was delivering, who it belonged to, or where it might be going. Well, it did have plates. Washington. But there was no way to know where it originated from.
After passing by it and getting through Blue Earth, I saw it again at a rundown motel. The Cozy Inn. I had pulled off a few hours earlier, deciding to spend the night. I was exhausted, had pulled a 10 hour day and could barely keep my eyes open. The clerk put me up in some grimy room that looked like the set of more than one true crime series. Stained sheets. Peeling wallpaper. A bathroom sink more inclined to spit out brown gunk than drinkable water.
My window faced the parking lot. I sat up for a while, curtains drawn, vaguely watching the television–playing one of those trashy true crime shows I feared I might end up on–and the parking lot. Cars occasionally came and went. I saw some of my neighbors, who looked mostly like travelers or perhaps vagrants. While a police officer was detailing a particularly gruesome scene on Murder Comes Home, I saw the black semi roll into the parking lot.
Once again, it sat there idling, headlights blazing through my window. I grew irritated. I almost got up to go outside. As I was contemplating the possible dangers of such a decision, a woman approached the monstrous truck. She looked beautiful in a miserable way, with a short fluorescent pink skirt and heels too high for the pock-marked parking lot.
She opened the passenger side door and climbed in, disappearing into the tinted darkness. The headlights went off and for a while I watched, silence save for the exploitative program murmuring in the background:
Her limbs were buried in separate spots along the roadside ditch…
My heart–broken though it was–thumped in my throat.
Her head was never recovered…
I walked outside, suddenly very concerned. I stood on the pavement in my shorts and t-shirt, facing the truck, no idea what I might do.
The door opened.
The woman stepped out.
Blood was running down her neck.
I ran up to her, “Miss, hey, Miss, are you okay?! You’re bleeding. Should I call an ambulance?” I was frantic, my eyes darting between the blood on her neck, trying to ascertain the source and the thumping truck.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just swell. Fucking grand.” Her voice was dreamy. Her eyes were glazed over as though she was in a daze.
I grabbed her arm, “I really don’t think you’re–”
She suddenly became more cogent, grasping my hand, “You don’t wanna get fucking involve in this, kid.”
I thought that was an odd thing to say–she was younger than me.
“I’m just trying to–” The headlights went on, illuminating us like a spotlight on a stage. The woman darted off, swaying as she did.
I stood there–stupid–not moving. All the lights in the parking lot went out and all I could hear was the engine idling. The driver’s side window rolled down. For a while–what seemed like an eternity, really–nothing happened. But then a hand emerged, casually, finger curling backwards, calling me over. And so I walked. What was I going to do? Be rude?
I couldn’t see inside the cab, but a voice emerged. It was deep, bone-shaking. It didn’t feel like it traveled through the air. More like it vibrated my eardrums, bouncing around my skull.
“You’re hurt.”
It took me a moment to gather myself, “Hurt?”
“Deeply. Wounded. Lost. Like a stray dog.”
I squeezed my hands together and could feel tears welling up in my eyes, “I’m just–”
“I can help.” The voice pushed inside me.
“You can?”
“Get in. Come take a little ride. You’ll feel better. Free. Happy. Complete.”
I stood in hesitation, my eyes on the hand, which was a deathly pale. It was almost translucent, but seemed so soft, gentle. I wanted to feel it on my cheek.
“Okay.”
I walked to the other side of the cab, pulled open the heavy metal door, and climbed into the plush, black seat. As soon as I pulled it shut I felt hands all over me. In my hair. On my neck. Roaming along my collarbones. Grasping my shoulders. I couldn’tj tell how many. Four? Six? Eight? Soft and gentle and cold.
I closed my eyes. I sank into the darkness. The headlights went out as the cab rumbled, pulling back onto the deserted county route.
And I felt good. So good.
Now, I don’t feel anything at all. Not scared or sad or hurt or lost. I’m found. Just like you could be found. So if you ever see a pitch black semi rolling along the highway, think about flagging it down.
And then, like me, you’ll never have to die

So I’m 4 days pp today, my lo is doing great aside from difficulty latching, I on the other hand am having quite a few symptoms/ things going on that I’m concerned may point to pp pre-e or maybe something else.

• SEVERE feet and ankle swelling, along with my calf. My thighs are also swollen and up into half my back.
• when I look around things look like they’re vibrating, not sure how else to explain it
• I’m getting confused pretty easily
• it’s hard to articulate what I’m thinking
• writing and reading words is so difficult! It’s like it’s all mixing together and I have to blink hard and shake my head to make it go away for a second. (It’s taken me a very long time to make this post 😭)
• pain in my right shoulder but I’m not sure if that’s from pumping/ feedings and looking down at baby constantly
• pinching feeling in lower right side, like close to my hip

Some of these could be a simple thing, others I’m worried about. Should I go in?
I’m just scared it’ll be something bad, I already know I’ll get ppd (I did with my other 2 kids & have major depressive disorder anyways) and I’m ebf and have just started pumping. Baby boy won’t take a bottle either. Any advice is welcome!!!

I'm very very scared right now So me and my girlfriend had intercourse three weeks ago and four days ago and right now she was just experiencing a headache and her whole body hurts and a fever almost every month her head always hurts but the new thing is that makes it feel different is because she's experiencing other things mix with it but right now currently she says that it cooled off because of the medicine And yesterday she had a headache and she was experiencing nausea she took medicine and it went away and she woke up today and she's just experiencing her whole body hurting and a headache and yes we did use protection and I didn't get to the ejaculation part yet we stopped before we can get there and she wasn't ovulating either when we had intercourse but for right now she said it's cooled off because of the medicine and my girlfriend also also has syncope this may be some of the reasons why the symptoms of syncope are Blacking out. Feeling lightheaded. Falling for no reason. Feeling dizzy. Feeling drowsy or groggy. Fainting, especially after eating or exercising. Feeling unsteady or weak when standing. Changes in vision, such as seeing spots or having tunnel vision. and I'm kind of worrying is there anything to be worried about

We have a male springer spaniel (field) who is turning 3 years old tomorrow and for the last two years he has been suffering from horrible allergies.
His symptoms include ear infections, hot spots, red swollen anus (infected from licking once), skin tags, scabbing, goopy eyes, hair falling off of his eyes, and full body rashes (worse on his chest).
We have done EVERYTHING and I am desperate for something that could possibly help him suffer less. He currently eats a hydrolized allergy diet with NO treats and/or scraps, we bath him in an allergy shampoo weekly, he gets medicated powder on his belly, ears cleaned with preventative solution weekly, and he has tried pills (which we stopped because they weakened his immune system and he got kennel cough 3x) and the allergy shots.
I feel horrible and hate that he suffers like this. It seems as though once we have it under control, a new symptom starts. We have been under the care of a vet who is lovely, but isn’t sure what’s causing his allergies and we have an appointment booked with a dog dermatologist in 3 months (waiting list was insane).
Has anyone else had these problems? How do you help your dogs? If it’s helpful, we are located in the southeastern USA.

What’s in the closet, Kirsty?
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.

I've been having health problems for around a month and I just feel extremely overwhelmed. It feels like my entire body is turning against me.
I've had headaches (tension & pressure types) for a while now, so I've been taking ibuprofen (I suspect it's a sinus infection, I'm getting a CT scan done tomorrow). I believe that the ibuprofen has messed up my stomach, because I had 3 instances of acid reflux in a single month. I'm currently having one of them now.
I made the mistake of eating meat before going to bed. It started out as mild chest pain and a sense of shortness of breath, like I couldn't fully breathe in. Then it started burning in my lower chest area. The next day, my throat was sore and I also had pain in my ear when swallowing. I've also been burping constantly, excessively. Sometimes I even burp up to 20 times in a single minute. It feels like there's a huge air bubble in my chest that I can't get out no matter how much I burp. Sometimes I even get heart palpitations, it feels like my heart is beating too fast and it's about to pop out of my chest.
I don't know if I have GERD, I plan on testing for helicobacter pylori. But I don't think I can ask my mom to go to yet ANOTHER doctor.
I've been to an eye doctor, ear-mouth-ears doctor and will be going to a neurologist soon. All in a single month. I feel like I'm crazy. My mom wouldn't react well if I told her I also wanted to get my heart & digestive tract checked.
My eyes also feel irritated & itchy and hurt sometimes, I don't know if that's just the pain from the headaches though.
I'm just tired. These symptoms feel very unrelated to eachother and I don't know how to address them anymore.
I feel physically & emotionally exhausted. I don't know if the chest pain is from muscle soreness or the esophagus still healing or something else.

Hi, I'm writing this post because I'm so desperate as I don't know what's wrong with me and doctors have been of no help to me whatsoever.
I(28F) have been suffering with heat intolerance for years now, with it only getting worse as time goes by. It started off with me dreading holidays with my parents years ago because I started feeling faint, weak and fatigued in the summer heat, so I stopped going altogether. Nowadays as soon as it gets above 20C, I literally can't even function. I spend every single summer inside, not going anywhere at all, because I simply cannot. The summers where I live go up to 40C and my house is poorly insulated so I just fry all day, feeling like I'm going to faint because my parents don't let me use the AC all the time. I have been having panic attacks knowing it's coming up to summer and that I'll be trapped inside again until October, I feel like a prisoner. I can hardly even sleep because of the heat, my appetite is gone and I force myself to eat, despite that I'm not losing weight and I've been overweight for years now. I also have hypothyroidism, and I've been on Euthyrox since 2017.
My left ankle has randomly started swelling up back in summer of 2018 and I've seen so many doctors about it with no answers. They took an x-ray of my leg, they looked at it, I had blood tests done, nobody knows why it just randomly swells up and doesn't go down even after laying in bed all night. Both of my legs tend to swell in the area below my knee, but that ankle is the worst. I've noticed this starts happening intensely as soon as it gets warm. Over the winter it almost never happens. So I believe there is a definite connection to heat there.
My body temperature runs consistently at least at 37C at all times. I get cold very easily too, but the cold never bothered me anyway (Let it go reference to make myself feel a little better, because I'm miserable). It's the heat that's the problem for me. I have never actually fainted, but I had a TILT test done and there's mild to medium damage to my autonomous nervous system (that's what they wrote in my test results and never bothered to explain to me).
I have had doubts about possibly having rheumatoid arthritis because my joints hurt A LOT too, but only when I lean on them, for example, like my shoulders, or if I squat for a bit my ankles and hips are just about killing me, it feels like they're burning inside. I have also suspected lupus, perhaps. But other than that, I have no idea what this is. I need any sort of advice, help, guidance. What it could be, what to get tested for, how to feel better. Because I can't live this way anymore. It's no life, it's just misery.

Started kit #2 on May 10th. Today (May 19th), I am down 5.7lbs 😁. The first few days, I was getting pretty nauseous and having headaches. Checked on this sub and it seemed like it was an issue with the metformin for most people and taking it with a heavier meal alleviated the symptoms. I haven't really had any other side effects.
I feel good. I'm not feeling sleepy at 3pm and reaching for a other cup of coffee like I usually do. I've actually stopped drinking coffee and I loooooove my coffee. My meal portions have gotten smaller even though I wasn't eating huge portions to begin with. I've started eating breakfast since I don't want to take the pills on an empty stomach. Normally coffee is my breakfast with maybe a Greek yogurt after. Now I drink a protein shake with fruit and oatmilk or have eggs with toast (Dave's killer bread).
Just wanted to give an update on my experience for those those that are thinking about trying it.

Have not had blood work yet but I do plan on calling my gyno to get an appointment. My health insurance sucks and I’m in a really tight spot financially, so that’s why I’ve been putting it off.
It’s important to note that my sex drive has been on the decline for years, I’ve been with the same person for 10 years so I just chalked it up to that. I’m 11 months PP and had a c-section, this is my only child and I’ve never had any vaginal deliveries (though a d&c for a complicated miscarriage prior to my son)
I’ve noticed I do not get turned on anymore from anything, sex is so incredibly painful that I basically have to suffer through it, obviously my fiancé doesn’t want me to feel that way and we’ve tried multiple different things to make it better with no luck. On the rare occasion I decide to get the job done myself, orgasms hurt.
I’ve got hair in places I don’t want hair and didn’t have when I was younger, acne I didn’t have when I was younger, and random headaches that feel like my forehead is being squeezed inwards. Speaking of hair, mine is falling out (could be PP hair loss but it just started recently and it’s not breakage due to coloring)
My doctor is good about taking concerns seriously and will check anything I want her to check, so I don’t think I’ll have an issue getting a full hormone panel. I wanted to know if these symptoms line up for any of you, or if you were diagnosed with something else/misdiagnosed.
Thanks for taking the time to read this

So a lot of years I'll have maybe mild (occasionally worse) seasonal allergy symptoms at different points through the spring and/or summer. I haven't really pinned down what they come from. It seems this year allergies are definitely getting me, as I've had short (usually 1 or 2 days) spells of having symptoms for the past month and a half.
Suddenly though, this past week, I've been hit hard. One day last weekend I spent a lot of time outside in the yard. The next day, my head felt half stuffed up, half sniffly. I had a sore throat from post nasal drip, just felt weird in the head like allergies do to me. And surprisingly it hasn't gone away, only being helped a bit by the generic Allegra I take. It's just stayed so bad for a full week now, or has really gotten worse.
I've had some coughing, sometimes just a few coughs but as of the past 2 days or so, it's gotten to the point where my entire head, neck, and rib area ache every time I cough because I've been coughing so hard. Sorry to be gross, but I've been hacking up both clear and yellowish mucus. The past day or 2, my lungs feel irritated, slightly sore throat, headache, head just still feeling stuffed up + drippy, coughing fits throughout the day that just feel kinda worse that what I'd expect from allergies.
I'm just torn because I feel like I'm 99% sure this is allergies, but then I'm questioning. Maybe it's actually a cold or virus, since I was with someone who was sick like 2 weeks ago. But I've just felt like it's allergies, especially with how it's been dragging on.
Can allergies get this rough? Do allergies ever cause you to have coughing fits, like the type where you absolutely need to cough because your throat is itching so badly and you hack and make your head hurt? Or is this maybe something else? Also, are allergies really extra bad this year? Location is Midwest US

Hi there,
I have been negative for ACh and MuSK, waiting on LRP4 and sfEMG. I want to establish whether I should ask for thymus testing/chest scan. So I would love advice on what is related to thymus symptoms and what is not. What I dont want to even bring it up if it might not be warranted, and get even more gas-lighting from the Neurologist. It's taken long enough for them to follow through on the main MG testing. But because it's taken 18 months already, I am so tired of waiting and not knowing. And he is never going to suggest it himself. So, any help greatly welcomed. TIA.
Questions: Do any of the symptoms below seem related to an enlarged thymus, connected to MG? Or - what would I look out for? Which ones would be clear cut to bring to the doctors attention, versus which ones are more ambiguous?
My only chest-related symptoms are: night sweats about 3 nights per week, from only the middle of the chest and scalp. Mid/upper chest is typically very hot and can run a temperature on its own, even when rest of body is cold. The MG-like symptoms I have are all over the body and I won't list them all here. But there is increasing involvement of the neck and throat, which is seems can sometimes relate to thymus issues, but sometimes not. So here they are: Swallowing, choking, chewing. Excessive throat clearing, horse voice, choking on saliva. The neck seems weak on one side and will droop forward on that side now, if im not paying attention and supporting it after sitting for a while. When its bad, the jawline/top of neck/base of cheek swells out, not enough that someone who didn't know me would notice. but enough for those who do. These all fluctuate throughout the day and from day to day, and depend on exertion and weakness. Except they do have the pattern of generally being worse nearer the end of the day.

I was on a good stretch of about a month. I just had a 5 day cold and all my symptoms are firing. What’s the reason for this?

I took my first shot of 2.5 on April 18th. I weighed 208 pounds. Today, May 18th, I’m 192.2. I learned more about my body in one month than ever! I’m 56F, 5’4, and pre-menopausal. It was almost impossible to lose weight. One month in and I noticed my hot flashes are gone! 🙌🏽 (IYKYK) and I actually lost weight. Weeks one and two, I had minimum side effects, absolutely no nausea, and no food noise. I had to force myself to eat. I took my shots in the evenings and would not eat anything at least 2 hours before or after my shot. I noticed the shot was more effective in my tummy vs. my left thigh. The third week the food noise came back, but I felt full. The fourth week I actually gained a pound and was hungry. However, I botched my last dose of 2.5 and only got 2.0 due to a bent needle. 🤦🏽‍♀️ I had a second box of 2.5 because I did so well, but this was no longer the case, so two days later I took another 2.5, which made my dose for the 5th week 4.5 and that worked! I ordered C - 5.0 due to the shortage, but it hasn’t arrived. I called my doctor to get a prescription for 5.0, and to my surprise I found a Walmart near me that had it. So I will officially start 5.0 this week until the C arrives and move back and forth. My symptoms were dizziness and feeling lightheaded right after the shots. Also constipation, and a slight headache. Wk1 - lost 6.8, Wk2 - lost 4, Wk3 - lost 2.8, Wks4-5 gained 2, titrated up to 4.5 and lost 2. I walk at least 5 days during the week. 20 min in the mornings and 20-30 min in the evening. I try to get in 10K steps. I do 10 min strength training two days during the week. I started drinking Fair-life protein shakes during week two. I only lift 5 pound weights. For me, when I noticed the food noise and not feeling full anymore, titrating up worked. Oh, and unfortunately, IPOP with coupons, but worth every dime so far.

Hi friends! brief context: I’m a Canadian (frame of reference for healthcare) & i’m a woman! Got diagnosed at 18, started prednisone for about 3 months. At 20 I was on it again for about 2 months. I’m 23 now, beginning my first week (40mg) and then tapering down for about 2 months.
Obviously this is for a flare, and its pretty difficult this first week, dealing with the change. Although my colon is definitely less bloody and as we all know this medication is a “you win some you lose some” situation!
Anyways this is the part i’m really concerned about. So in the past my doctors did not really explain prednisone too much to me so i basically went in with little to no understanding. I’ve chalked this up to: I was 18, i was exhausted and it was all so new, they probably just assumed I’d be good with whatever side effects come my way.
I was 20, it was covid time, they just needed to give me what I needed and let me get out of the hospital as fast as possible. They knew I’ve had it before, probably figured I’m familiar with the rundown of prednisone.
So this time around I’ve talked to my ER doctor and my pharmacist and they truly looked at me like i’m crazy when i even mention “side effects” ? they both said almost verbatim “i’ve never once heard of someone complaining about that. that is not related to prednisone, that is a separate problem you have. You wouldn’t get side effects from this” they did not let me ask more because they said i’m probably causing the issues myself possibly due to stress? I guess I’m just trying to figure out, am i just stressed and my bodys reacting oddly or is this just a side effect. Also i remember at 20, asking the doctor about side effects and i got the same confused reaction of like “what are you talking about?”
my symptoms (that to my knowledge are only present when i’ve been on prednisone!!):
-increased appetite
-mood swings / irritability
-needing to pee more than usual
-having trouble sleeping
-feeling very hot, like waking up in some sweat even though im sleeping without a blanket now
-neck / headaches
is this normal? am i really just so stressed i’m causing this myself? any advice would help. thank you friends!

Edit: knew I needed the reassurance and commiseration, just didn't realize how badly until I saw the replies. Thanks y'all for making this new dad feel a little better while he helplessly watches his son suffer on. I appreciate y'all!
Welp, title says it all. I started showing symptoms for a cold Tuesday night, but brushed it off as allergies because I threw away an old carpet that day that was filled with all the usual sneeze and cough ingredients.
Wednesday was daddy daycare while the wife worked and because I still felt a little something something I was extra careful around the little guy: washing hands as often as possible, no kisses, and as little direct face-to-face contact as I could manage - you know, just to be safe.
Turns out it was a cold and it hit me like a freight train Thursday, Friday and into Saturday. I stayed locked away in the bedroom doing the usual home care of fluids and rest and did my best to keep the kiddo safe from it. Really, the only saving grace through the misery of it was that he hadn't caught it.
And then, Saturday night, just as I feel I'm starting to turn a corner and feel good about my precautionary ways, the boy wakes up in the middle of the night from a coughing fit. I've never felt like a bigger piece of shit in my entire life. All I wanted was to spare him from this, and I failed.
We're supposed to fly out Wednesday and I'm wicked worried about what that will do to him if he's still got this, which looks increasingly likely based on quick research.
I know, rationally, that this shouldn't be a huge deal, but I can't stop myself from spiraling on what could come from this initial cold and then with the travel tacked on. I feel like a complete and utter failure of a parent because I know that I gave this to him and that I've doomed my son to a miserable first flight at best, and lord knows what future complications at worst.
Any of y'all ever felt anything like this?

As she lets me in, the real estate agent says that I am responsible to return the house to its original condition for the new tenants, otherwise the landlord will hire professional cleaners and claim the bond to cover the cost. She threatens to pursue the estate if the bond money does not cover the clean. I don’t know what gave her the idea that there is an estate.
‘A good family would do at least that much for each other, wouldn’t they? I’m sure there is lots of family… treasures in there you’d like to keep safe.’ she says, but I can see the disgust on her face as she discovers the state of the house. My stomach drops and squeezes my throat as her words bring back the guilt from our phone call.
Seeing this place makes me pity them. They had nothing. Why had I been so angry with them?
The agent was able to find me because legislation requires real estate agencies to have a next of kin for tenants. My parents nominated me as next of kin. Hearing that made me feel guilty. There was nobody else they could nominate.
I don’t reply to the agent and stare into the house. Roots of overgrown junk seek out space across the floor and holes in the wall break up the colour scheme of brown dirts, grey/green moulds, and black holes. One hole must be above a horizontal wall stud because a bottle of rum is sticking out at a 3 o’clock angle from it with its lid off.
The agent continues to talk, walks away to her car, and then drives away. At least, I assume she did when I finish staring into the house.
I walk through the house and open the door to my bedroom. It is the same as I left it years ago. The mattress festers, the walls remember cigarettes, and stains remain the only decoration. It hasn’t changed since I was born.
I know that there are thousands of events that make me who I am, but there a few which I like to remind myself of. I like to remind myself of absorbing the project slides of ENGIN103: Engineering for Transit and dreaming about what it would feel like to ride a train route that I had designed. I like to remind myself of arriving for an internship at Foley and Sons and not leaving until 10pm, so that I could see the nightworks for the motorway. I like to remind myself of sitting with Foley as he assigned me as project manager for the tunnel across the river. Last month, I apologised for the project issues so far.
“Projects have issues. That's why there is a project manager. We are lucky to have you,” he said.
I like to remind myself of that.
This house makes me remember what I don’t remind myself of. I remember my mother telling me that nobody she knew was smart enough to be an engineer and refusing to drive me to campus because it would be a waste of her time. I remember getting a sore back at 21 from having to study on my bed and staying at university all day so that I had a space to study. I remember studying on the 90-minute bus commute with only a single ham and cheese sandwich for lunch that sometimes made me sick because the fridge wasn’t cold enough at home. I remember my father telling me that I, “Don't know shit,” and that I would be dead in a week if I moved out in a housing crisis when I said being closer to university would be good for me.
A lump in my throat forms and it brings back a memory where I cannot speak, “You have one new message. Message received today at 8:55 PM. I knew you could do it. Looking good in those grad pics that Auntie Shirley posted. Let me kn–Message deleted. You have no more messages.”
Couldn’t I even text them back?
I pull my old bed out from against the wall, and it rattles the room as it grips the old timber flooring. There is still a loose floorboard. I pry up with a key and part the old collection of junk which I had stored over the years. I see a single scrunched up piece of paper. I pry it out of its ball and see the floor through numerous holes chewed out by rats. This is my first academic transcript. I showed this to my family after finishing my first semester of engineering. It reads that I was in the awarded a certificate for academic achievement after scoring in the top 5% of the grade. I had never worked so hard for anything. I had never achieved anything. My eyes swell with tears, and I hear them laughing, ‘Lot of good that does us. They only accept money at the grocery store.’
My guilt returns to anger.
I knew it was right then and I remember it now.
I turn around and I leave.

I’m wondering if anyone only takes Sinemet as needed, and just deals with PD without it when they can.
My MDS doesn’t understand why I’d want to not take it constantly, as he saw my scores go down when I was on 1.5 pills of c/l 3x a day for a month. When I went in for the appointment, I thought he was going to tell me they weren’t working. Yes I could type a little better but I don’t feel on/off periods. I just notice “hey I am a little less shaky when I unload the dishes” or “hey my shoulder is slightly less painful today” There’s never a great surge of relief, I never get my handwriting back, and tbh a stress free day and a good night sleep seems to do the same thing for my PD stiffness. So really, if the results aren’t impactful to me, I don’t see why I should take it all the time?
I went 24 hours without C/L last weekend and didn’t notice any difference. I don’t type on the weekends. So this work week I waited until noon each day when my hand started sucking and took a dose with a little bit of impact to finish up the work day. Seemed fine. Yesterday, I had lunch in the sun with an old friend if not seen in awhile, browsed shops with no agenda alone, and painted when I got home. Felt great.
So like, if it’s a stress free day or I don’t need my fine motor skills, why take it?
MDS said I could stop C/L cold turkey, but when I googled I found warnings saying not to. I’m not thrilled with him in general/there’s no trust there (getting a new one this winter). Anyway, curious if anyone takes as needed or if you’ve heard it’s dangerous to do so.
Specifics re: my general symptoms if needed: I have rigid dominant YOPD with action tremor that’s worse with cold/big feelings. My main issues are tremor when texting/unloading the dishes, slow typing, and reduced mobility and moderate pain in my affected hand/arm/shouldeneck (right/dominant). Toe taps are slow and fatigue makes me feel the PD in my leg but no gait issues yet. Possibly related to something else, or possible that the disease is moving along a little quickly: both hands always have sore joints and feel swollen, and I have nerve pain down the backs of both legs/feet. Yes I had an abnormal DATscan.
Thanks!

Hey guys and sorry for the long upcoming post but i thought it could help some people going through the same.
I have been hit with a knee on 1st of April 2024 during BJJ sparring (swept a guy from should crunch sumi gaeshi and when i wanted to get side control, he knee me in the forehead) and i wanted to post my timeline here. I didn't black out or see any stars.
I don't have a history of anxiety. Never been except before an exam, competition. I'm super extroverted and confident when i walk on the street.
First 24 hours - headache
Week 1 - nauseous, headache, sleepy. On day 4 i went to the doctor. She did all these neurological tests and she said i have a mild concussion but she wouldn't be concerned.
Week 2 - nausea, headaches went away but my energy levels were still low.
Week 3 - i felt good so i started getting back to my cardio routine on the first Monday of week 3 and weightlifting. BIG MISTAKE
Week 4 - i got a setback and here is where shit hit the fan. I got very scared / anxious about feeling bad again after returning to my normal sports routine (without actually hitting my head) and I started reading all these stories from here (reddit) which spiked my anxiety through the roof.
Week 5-6 - The most horrible weeks in my life because i was stuck in this loop of anxiety, thinking about all the scenarios based on everyone's stories. All this "diffuse axonal injury", "i'm still having symptoms 8 months after"and so on. I would wake up in the morning being insanely anxious like the type you have before an exam or a competiton
Week 7: I went to a very good neurologist where i told him everything I said above and he did again the neurological test and he assured me that i don't have any of what i thought i had ( BASED ON REDDIT STORIES). He also asked me: "Would it make you feel better if we do an MRI to check for diffuse axonal injury?" to which i replied: yes. The MRI came back clean and this is where my anxiety started fading.
Now it's 19th of May and i can say that once the anxiety disappeared, I'm back to 100% normal. I lift, do cardio, train jiujitsu.
My take on concussions:
Treat them seriously and while many things on reddit have valuable information like "what could cause PCS, neck problems, vestibular problems, visual" etc, a lot of the stories are not complete. What i mean by that is that you never really know what kind of hit the other person got: angle, speed, acceleration-deceleration etc.. that's why TBIs are unique.
Supplements i used:

1. Magnesium L-threonate
2. Fish oil
3. Multi vitamins
4. VALERIAN ROOT for anxiety was amazing.