coronary-bypass

Before the Sun Is In the Sky - Lin Manuel Miranda X Reader

Pairing: Lin Manuel Miranda x Reader

Summary: You’re a sleep deprived third-year resident at the hospital and you’ve been assigned to the ER where a disheveled Lin comes in after a kitchen mishap.

Warnings: Blood, needles, cursing. I think that’s it?

Word Count: 3,132 (Yiiiikes.)

A/N: So I haven’t written in a long while, so it’s hella rusty and I’m sorry for this trash. This is my first fic in a long ass time. It was initially gonna be a one shot, but then I started rambling and well, it’s dumb. ANYWAY. Have fun with this garbage. Let me know what y'all think and maybe I’ll write more. Who knows.

SIDE NOTE: Thanks to @ourforgottenboleros for editing and being the sweetest pal ever. GO READ HER STUFF ‘CAUSE BECCA INSPIRED ME TO WRITE AGAIN AND HONESTLY I’M FLUSTERED BC OF HER WORK, SO YEAH.

You were four hours past the end of your shift at Columbia University Hospital and you’d been sleep deprived for a little over two days. It wasn’t like you had a right to kick yourself in the ass for being so exhausted because you intentionally signed up for this. Four years at Tufts, another four at Cornell, you weren’t about to throw it all away just because you were tired. It was part of the job. As a third-year resident, you should be used to it by now – and sure, you were, but you were human and sleep was still precious.

It was almost 4 in the morning and you were making your last round in the pit before calling it a night. The ER was oddly silent in a city that never sleeps, but still, you were beyond grateful for the silent reprieve, no matter how momentary.

“Doctor Y/N, there’s a minor laceration that just got assigned to Room 17,” a nurse called out from behind the station. “He was the last patient out there.”

You groaned to yourself, almost wanting to admit defeat. You didn’t want to go check up on someone that was most likely inebriated to the point where impulse and clumsiness overpowered all logic and balance. The guy probably had some superficial injury that could be patched up with some antibacterial cream and a Spider-Man band aid.

“Thanks, Erica,” you replied as you stifled a yawn that’s been trying to escape for the past six hours. “Stats and everything uploaded to the database?”

Erica nodded and smiled at you sympathetically, knowing full well how much you just wanted to go home, take off everything, and climb into bed for just five hours before it was time to start again.

Room 17, you thought to yourself as your feet subconsciously brought you to the back hallway of the emergency room, tablet in tow. After a brief overview of his stats, medical history, and a description of the wound, you quickly gave the door two knocks before entering the room. Pulling back the privacy curtain, you looked up from your tablet and smiled at a disheveled man with his hand wrapped in a bloody hand towel.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Y/N, Mister… Lin-Manuel.” You smiled as you set down the tablet and approached him.

“You can just call me Lin,” he replied as he tried to wave at you with his cut hand, pain suddenly reminding him of his early morning mistake. “Oh duh, so stupid.”

You bit your cheek to keep the snicker that was quickly rising up and grabbed a pair of latex gloves and put them on.

“Alright, so what happened?” Reaching out for his hand, you gingerly hold it and remove the towel, exposing a three inch long slice on his left hand, starting from a centimeter above the base of his middle finger ending down by the outside curve of his palm. “Ahh, there it is.”

“Apple,” he started. “I was slicing an apple because eating it whole is just weird and it’s so much easier to eat it in slices, so that way I have free range with my hands to–”

You stopped him. “So you were slicing an apple on a cutting board and then this happened… to the inside of your palm?” That made no sense. If anything, he would’ve cut a finger or even the outside of his hand.

Shuffling over to the cabinet on the wall adjacent to the bed, you opened it up and grabbed gauze pads and saline solution.

“No, I was holding it. In my hand.” Lin looked you in the eye and then suddenly couldn’t make eye contact. There was a moment of hesitation and he brought his focus to the pulse oximeter still attached to his index finger. “Stupid, I know, but I wasn’t thinking. I had other things going on in my head and I got hungry, so I figured I’d cut up an apple and get back to writing.”

You made your way back over to him.

“I think a lesson was learned today,” you retorted with a smirk on your face as you began to clean the cut.

He winced and jerked his hand away just a bit. “Yeah, but it’s a setback now.”

You tried to clean the cut, but every time you put an ounce of pressure to the area, he seemed more and more uncomfortable. “Okay, I’m gonna numb this.”

“With a topical cream?” He asked with a raised brow, concern growing on his face.

“I could use a topical anesthetic, but when I stitch this up, you’ll probably feel a little more of the sutures than you’d like…”

You felt bad for him, you really did. His apparent uneasiness with needles on top of very obvious sleep deprivation (his eye bags looked worse than yours, dear Lord) made his big brown eyes grow wider and suddenly, they looked, for lack of a better term, helpless. That split second of fear and anxiety staring right back at you in the form of a puppy dog in a human’s body just sent your heart plummeting.

“Look, it’ll be quick. If anything, it’s a quick pinch here,” you pointed to the base of his finger, then the middle of his palm, and the edge of his hand. “There, and… right there. By the time it’s over, you’ll just feel pressure on it and it’s all done.” You flashed him a reassuring smile and shot him a look of ‘okay, let’s do it?’.

Lin audibly swallowed and nodded shaking. “I just… needles. Not too great with them.”

You headed towards the door and shot him yet another sympathetic grin. “I know, but it’ll help, I promise. I’ll be right back with what I need and we’ll get you stitched up and out of here, okay?”

“Sure, take your time, Doc.” He ran his free hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. “Please. Take your time. I need to mentally prepare for… this.” He gestured around the room and looked up at the ceiling.

You chuckled and shook your head. “You’ll be just fine.”

This was an everyday occurrence. Patients came in and out of the hospital, especially the pit where they were never anticipating to be. Patience and understanding were two traits that were necessary on the road to success as a doctor, so when it came to cases like this, the standard protocol was already second nature to you.

Once you had the required items, you took your tray and brought it back to his room. “Hey there, all set?”

A shaky breath escaped Lin’s lips and he shook his head again, clearly trying his hardest to smile. “Uh, no, but it needs to happen. I just… the blood, the stitches, my hand…”

“I’ll distract you,” you offered as you grabbed the stool and took a seat next to the bed. “Okay, put your hand up here and tell me about what you were working on.” Fingers in place in the new pair of gloves, you took the syringe and popped off the top before beginning to administer the anesthesia.

He gasped audibly, prompting you to stop to give him a few more moments of preparation. “Shit, that’s a big needle.” His eyes widened at the sight of the bevel that was a hairline away from his gaping wound.

It was a short gauge, a whopping 26 millimeters from the tip to the hub, barely a millimeter longer than a typical 25-gauge butterfly. A baby’s pinky finger was longer.

“Shh, shh, don’t look,” you told him calmly in an attempt to reassure him. “Close your eyes, Lin. It’s okay. Breathe in, breathe out.” A comforting smile grew across your face as you coaxed him to relax. “So tell me, what’s that thing you were working on?”

“A musical.” He exhaled a shaky breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, his free hand visibly trembling as he brought it up to further cover his face, as if shielding himself from the entire ordeal would make it all go away. You started to administer the anesthesia one more time, working as lightly as you possibly could. “It’s a fuzzy idea I had one day and it just sort of – ow! Sorry, I – ah! Fuck! Damn it! I’m gonna – oh God, I’m gonna puke…”

“It’s over, it’s over, no more pain.” You gazed into his eyes as a smile tugged on the corners of your lips. “Also, no more sensation because you’ll be numb for a few hours.”

He cautiously opened his eyes and looked back at you, chest rising and falling as if he’d sprinted up six flights of stairs, a slight grin of relief reciprocating your own. “God, that was horrible.”

You couldn’t help but giggle a little. There was something entrancing about his personality, and honestly, him being your (hopefully) last patient almost made it worthwhile.

“You’re fine. I’ll get it all stitched and you can go back home to work on that musical, alright? Tell me all about it.” Suture in hand, you began to close up his wound, stealing glimpses of him every now and then to ensure he was comfortable.

“You know the dude on the ten-dollar bill? Well, he’s got a wild story from start to finish.”

“Alexander Hamilton? That guy?”

He opened up his eyes and looked at you as you met his gaze with a quizzical look. With pursed lips, he nodded as if to say, ‘Yeahhhh, crazy.’

A musical. About some old man on the ten spot. Who in the world would do such a thing? Of course, you weren’t about to burst his bubble, especially since he was slowly but surely calming down. And plus, it was mesmerizing just listening to him ramble on.

You were about a third of the way through and despite your desperation for rest (and a bagel – dear God, you were starving), conversing with this sleep deprived, clumsy playwright-slash-musician somehow made tonight much more entertaining – which was odd because your definition of ‘entertaining’ was scrubbing in on a coronary artery bypass graft. But regardless, something about this man made you want to slow down and take your time instead of rushing him out the door.

“So what’s so special about Mr. Ten Dollar bill?” You pulled the suture through and tied a knot, moving languidly to prolong the moment.

“Everything,” he answered, accidentally moving his wounded hand to further emphasize his reply.

You instinctively grabbed him by the wrist to steady his hand.

“Yikes! Sorry, sorry, I forgot…”

With a laugh, you breathed a sigh of relief, worried some freak accident would’ve occurred had you not been quick on your feet – well, hands. “No no, it’s all good. Keep going.”

“Uh, where was I– Right, so he was just some washed up orphan, tough life, big dreams, some victories, huge mistake…”

Stitch upon stitch, you listened intently, finding yourself upstaging Mona Lisa’s smirk with your own because no matter how monotonous this procedure was, you were actually really into it. The conversation, that was, and you just kind of, sort of, maybe, perhaps didn’t want it to end.

Eventually, he wasn’t as nervous as he was when he first arrived and the conversation went from distraction to legitimate socialization.

Suddenly, his voice trailed off.

“This is probably boring to you. You don’t wanna hear about this. You probably have people talking your ear off every day. I’m sorry.” Lin gave you an apologetic smile. “You must be tired of me already.”

You look up at him and shrug, the faintest smile gracing your face. “I mean, it sounded ridiculous at first, but the more you talked about it, the more I wanted to know.”

“Don’t patronize me, it’s okay.” A grin tugged at his lips. “I’m sure you wanted silence.”

Honestly, he was partially right. You wanted nothing more than to drown out the melodies of the hustling, bustling city you called home. There was not a more arousing thought than silence. (That was sad. You were turned on by silence.)

But that was before this patient swept you up in the excitement of the story of Mr. Ten Bucks. And suddenly, you were okay with hearing him drone on and on.

With a shake of your head, you smiled up at him. “I was actually enjoying the conversation.”

“Well anyway, that’s the gist of it. I’ll spare you of the rest of my commentary.” He shot you a sheepish smile and laughed under his breath. “Weird concept, huh?”

“I dig it!” you replied with an enthusiastic nod. Sure, it sounded absurd, but the way he described it to you made it seem like brilliance was brewing. “I want tickets to the show when it’s done. Front and center. I’m gonna be like, ‘Yeah, I fixed up his hand!’

A laugh fell from his lips and he met your eyes. “You’re cute, Doc.”

Oh, there you went with the blushing. You felt the heat radiating from your cheeks and you broke away from his gaze, fearing your quickly reddening face would be noticed. Eyes focused on the task still at hand, you continued to close up the wound.

“I lucked out here in the ER.”

You could practically feel his eyes still on you, and the silly grin on his face made your cheeks flame up even more.

“Look!” You gesticulated a mock presentation of his newly stitched up hand and flashed him your pearly whites, trying to change the subject. “Not bad at all, right?”

He brought his hand up closer to his face and examined it with fascination mixed with a twinge of disgust. “How Frankenstein’s monster-esque.”

You reached out for his hand after giving him a few moments to gawk at it and started to wrap it up with the roll of gauze, finishing it up with a knot. Cleaning up your station, you watched Lin’s reaction and couldn’t help but laugh a little. What a relief, you were finally done.

“It’s shouldn’t scar though, so if you were worried about having aesthetically pleasing hands, those stitches won’t hinder you from pursuing a hand modeling career.”

“Thank you,” he said with a sincere smile. “This was a surprisingly positive experience for me.”

“Well, it was my pleasure. And thank you for educating me on America’s history.”

“It was my pleasure educating a beautiful doctor who won’t, in any way, shape, or form, have any use of her new knowledge of America’s boastful founding father.”

Damn him, he was too charming. Those mesmerizing eyes, tousled dark locks, it almost seemed like he was flirting – No, stop it. You’re exhausted. That’s all it was. Exhaustion. Delusion.

A yawn was making its way out of your mouth and you couldn’t help but let it out and stretch along with it.

“Early shift, huh?” He asked, the grin on his face unwavering. “I get that.”

“Actually, I’m on my way out.”

Saying those words lifted the weight off your shoulders, the contours of your body already feeling the warmth of your bed, your head already sensing the softness of your pillow, your mind already imagining the sensation of rest.

His face fell and his cheeks turned a bright shade of red. “Oh God, and here I was, talking your ear off for about an hour and–”

“Don’t even worry about it!” You waved him off and shook your head fervently. “It’s my job. I chose this life. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I would’ve just kept my mouth shut had I known.”

“Please don’t feel bad, I’m totally fine. It’s okay, I promise!” You pulled the gloves off your hand and threw them away before putting a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to assuage his worries. “Let me just slide out of here to write you a prescription and you can go home, okay?”

He nodded wordlessly and watched you walk out of the room.

A quick note on the pad and a grab of a handful of gauze and antibacterial cream later, you made your way back into Room 17.

“I’m ba-ack.” You sang as you swung open the door. “Okay, this is for 800 milligram Ibuprofen for pain if need be, and here are some supplies to keep that cut clean and covered, okay?”

There was a brief moment of quiet between the two of you.

He broke the silence.

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No,” you shrugged. “I was gonna tackle that issue after work.”

“Can I take you to breakfast?” He asked without missing a beat, cocking his head slightly to the side, eagerly anticipating your response.

What. That was not something you could do. Doctors were not to affiliate themselves with patients they’re currently treating outside of medical reasons.

Wait a damn minute. He was flirting. And you, stupid you, chalked it all up to merely hallucinating because you were so sleep deprived but –

“Sure,” you replied with a quick nod and a bashful smile plastered on your face, your mind not even comprehending that your mouth decided it was best to jump the gun. “I’d like that.”

And plus, technically, you weren’t even treating him anymore. Your job was done. You patched him up, told him how to care for it, and sent him on his way. His primary care physician was in charge of the follow-up. You were in the clear.

“I’m glad,” he stood up from the bed and grabbed the supplies you gave him and stuffed them in his front pocket. “Should I just… wait in the lobby then?”

“Um, well, the nurse will come in with your discharge papers and he’ll go over what the next few weeks are gonna be like. The game plan for your hand and what not. That should give me enough time to head downstairs to change really quickly and I’ll meet you back up here. Is that okay?”

Lin grinned at you. “Absolutely. I can’t wait.”

And with that, you hurriedly walked towards the elevators and rushed to down to the resident lockers. You frantically stripped yourself of forty-one hours’ worth of stress, sweat, blood, and other bodily fluids and changed into comfy leggings, a black tank top, and a flannel to tie it all together. Messenger bag slung over your shoulder and across your body, you approached the mirror hung behind the door, examining your hair, ensuring you were, at the very least, presentable at this point.

Well, you thought to yourself. This’ll have to do.

You met back up with Lin in Room 17, peeking your head through the door with a faint smile. “Hey, all done?”

“All done,” he replied with a nod. “Ready?”

As I’ll ever be, you thought. “Ready.”

Another in the same series of illustrations showing several treatment options for coronary artery blockage. I think I did six total, but I’ll have to look for the others. This one shows a graft option, in which a vein segment is harvested from another area of the body and used to create bypass around the blockage of plaque. The red of the artery in this illustration, as well as the blue of the vein, are exaggerated. This is standard medical illustration coding, so the type of vessel is clear to the viewer.

somehowunbroken  asked:

I'm writing a story in which a background character has a heart attack followed by surgery for it. I need a reason for him to stay out of communication for at least a few days after that. Would there be any sort of complication that would require him to be sedated? If so, how serious would it be long-term/would it be like coming out of a coma when he regained consciousness wrt emotional/physical/mental conditions? (FWIW, this character doesn't /have/ to survive if that would be too unrealistic.)

Hey there! So you need a critical illness as a side effect of a heart attack, huh? Well, let’s get this party started!

I’m going to give you a path that this character could go down, but not the one true only path this could happen. So keep in mind that things like pulmonary emboli, surgical site infections, internal bleeding, and  much more can keep your character in the hospital for months after surgery.

First, a great reason to be out of touch would be if he had to be intubated for any reason. Putting a breathing tube down someone’s throat is a pretty good way to render them ineffective, especially because often times these patients are sedated, at least at first.

Now then. Your character has a heart attack. Boom. First step is (usually) calling 911.

Paramedics will arrive, perform an EKG, and diagnose something called a STEMI (ST-Elevated Myocardial Infarction; the kind of heart attack you can see with an EKG. Others require bloodwork to be sure; this is someone whose MI is BLATANT.)

He might be cool to the touch, pale, sweaty, and have his fist clenched over his chest – this is an actual thing patients do. He may be convinced he’s going to die.

He’s right, but only temporarily.

Okay. So he’s having his STEMI. A particular kind of STEMI, an inferior wall MI, will produced EKG changes. (If you want some medspeak, have the medics give a notification: “I have 4-mm tombstone elevations in II, III and AvF” sounds smart, adding “… with a 2-mm elevation in V4R” sounds SUPER smart and will win you points with medical readers, trust me on this.)

He’ll be given aspirin, but not a medication called nitroglycerine, because Reasons™ . Medics may also give him an IV and some fluid, maybe 500mL.

Next he will arrive at the hospital. He may stop in the ER for a quick look by the ER doc and a few hundred mg of Plavix (clopidogrel). After that he’ll be brought very quickly to what’s called the cath lab, or cardiac catheterization lab. This is where your character will undergo catheterization. Namely, they’ll thread a catheter in through his groin up to his heart and try to clear the blockage by placing stents in his heart.

But before they can do that, they’ll take a look at his arteries by injecting contrast dye to see what’s blocked and what isn’t.

This is where your character goes from cath lab patient to surgical patient. If he has 3 or more vessels that are occluded by plaque – triple vessel disease – he’ll be going for a CABG instead (a coronary artery bypass graft, AKA a “bypass” or CABG, pronounced “cabbage”). In fact, he’s getting 3 of them.

Now, mind you, his blood pressure may continue to deteriorate all this while, because both sides of his heart are involved in the heart attack. He will be a very sick man by the time we’re done with him.

So next he’s brought to the OR, likely with some kind of pressor (dopamine, norepinephrine) hanging now to keep his blood pressure up. He’ll be anesthetized and intubated (breathing tube placed) in the OR.

And as they try to perform the coronary bypass, with his chest open on the table, he’s going to have a cardiac arrest.

Cardiac massage (aka “squeezing the heart to make it pump, literally, just grab it and squeeze”) will be done. If it’s a shockable rhythm, yes, they’ll apply paddles directly to the heart and shock it.

Anyway, let’s say they get the triple bypass done. Let’s say he lives. Let’s say he doesn’t even have massive damage to his heart.

He may still have trouble weaning off the ventilator. He may have developed some edema (fluid) in his lungs, and he may simply not be able to come off the vent right away. It may take a few days to get his pressures under control, to get him perfusing everything well again.

Meanwhile, he’ll be sedated, in a lot of pain, and unable to get up (because he’s had his chest opened up).

In the long term, he may be a relatively healthy man. Years down the road he may be able to exercise well, play poker with his friends, or volunteer at the shelter. But in the first few weeks after his surgery he’s going to have limited exercise tolerance and a lot of medication. He’s going to have some diet changes, some exercise changes, and he’s going to follow up with his cardiologist on a regular basis.

But he can live, and live well, and actually live long, after this event.

I hope this fulfills your requirements, and that others have learned from it too!

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

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time.com
50 Health Issues That Count as a Pre-existing Condition
The list is long.
By Alicia Adamczyk

AIDS/HIV

Alcohol or drug abuse with recent treatment

Alzheimer’s/dementia

Anorexia

Arthritis

Bulimia

Cancer

Cerebral palsy

Congestive heart failure

Coronary artery/heart disease, bypass surgery

Crohn’s disease

Diabetes

Epilepsy

Hemophilia

Hepatitis

Kidney disease, renal failure

Lupus

Mental disorders (including Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Schizophrenia)

Multiple sclerosis

Muscular dystrophy

Obesity

Organ transplant

Paraplegia

Paralysis

Parkinson’s disease

Pending surgery or hospitalization

Pneumocystic pneumonia

Pregnancy or expectant parent (includes men)

Sleep apnea

Stroke

Transsexualism

Also:

Acid Reflux

Acne

Asthma

C-Section

Celiac Disease

Heart burn

High cholesterol

Hysterectomy

Kidney Stones

Knee surgery

Lyme Disease

Migraines

Narcolepsy

Pacemaker

Postpartum depression

Seasonal Affective Disorder

Seizures

“Sexual deviation or disorder”

Ulcers


RESISTBOT works! Text "RESIST" to 50409

Many of y'all already know about the AHCA bullshit, where basically existing means you have a preexisting condition and won’t be covered for healthcare. Here’s a list of such conditions:

AIDS/HIV, lupus, alcohol abuse/drug abuse with recent treatment, severe mental disorders such as bipolar disorder or an eating disorder, Alzheimer’s/dementia, multiple sclerosis, rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia and other inflammatory joint disease, muscular dystrophy, cancer, severe obesity, cerebral palsy, organ transplant, congestive heart failure, paraplegia, coronary artery/heart disease, bypass surgery, paralysis, Crohn’s disease/ulcerative colitis, Parkinson’s disease, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease/emphysema, pending surgery or hospitalization, diabetes mellitus, pneumocystis pneumonia, epilepsy, pregnancy or expectant parent, hemophilia, sleep apnea, hepatitis C, stroke, kidney disease, renal failure, transsexualism, migraines, cystic fibrosis, ulcers, acne, AND MORE. 

So, what does texting 50409 do? If you text “RESIST” to the number, you can compose a fax to send to your representatives. You input your name and zip code and then can write a message to send to them. Here’s what I sent:

“The AHCA is a threatening to take away the vital health care of many Americans and it is crucial that you vote NO on the bill. Any American with a “preexisting condition” will be at risk if this passes. A “preexisting condition” according to the AHCA includes mental health issues, cancer, reproductive health issues, genetic disorders, and many others. Please help stop this horrifying bill and protect the rights of your constituents. Thank you.“

Please do this. It’s super easy to use and it’s a great way to contact your representatives if you have anxiety about making calls. If you aren’t in the US, I would appreciate it if you could signal boost this. Thank you

alphabet soup: disease edition

Here are a few commonly used medical abbreviations:

AAA - abdominal aortic aneurysm
ACS - acute coronary syndrome
ADHD - attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder
AIDS - acquired immunodeficiency syndrome
AKI - acute kidney injury
ALS - amyotrophic lateral sclerosis aka Lou Gehrig’s disease
ARDS - acute respiratory distress syndrome
ASD - atrial septal defect
AVM - arteriovenous malformation
BPH - benign prostatic hyperplasia, now known as LUTS
BV - bacterial vaginosis
CAD (s/p PCI/CABG) - coronary artery disease (status post percutaneous coronary intervention/coronary artery bypass grafting)
CHF - congestive heart failure
CKDI-IV - chronic kidney disease (stage I-IV)
COPD (on HOT) - chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (on home oxygen therapy)
CVA - cerebrovascular accident aka stroke
DDD - degenerative disc disease
DJD - degenerative joint disease
DLD - dyslipidemia aka HLD
DMD - Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy
DMI aka IDDM - Diabetes mellitus Type I aka Insulin-Dependent Diabetes mellitus, previously known as Juvenile-onset Diabetes
DMII aka NIDDM - Diabetes mellitus Type II aka Non-Insulin-Dependent Diabetes mellitus, previously known as Adult-onset Diabetes
DT - delirium tremens
DVT - deep vein thrombosis
ED - erectile dysfunction
ESRD on HD - end stage renal disease on hemodialysis
GAD - general anxiety disorder
GERD - gastroesophageal reflux disease
GIB - gastrointestinal bleed
GVHD - graft vs host disease
HIV - human immunodeficiency virus
HLD - hyperlipidemia aka DLD
HPV - human papillovirus
HTN - hypertension
HUS - hemolytic uremic syndrome
IBD - irritable bowel disease
IBS - irritable bowel syndrome
ICH - intracranial hemorrhage
IDDM - see DMI
ITP - idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura
LEMS - Lambert-Eaton myasthenic syndrome
LGIB - lower gastrointestinal bleed
LUTS - lower urinary tract symptoms
MAC - Mycobacterium avium complex
MDD - major depressive disorder
MM - multiple myeloma
MS - multiple sclerosis
NIDDM - see DMII
NPH - normal pressure hydrocephalus
NSTEMI - non-ST segment elevation myocardial infarction
OA - osteoarthritis
OCD - obsessive compulsive disorder
OHS - obesity hypoventilation syndrome aka Pickwickian Syndrome
OSA (on BiPAP/CPAP) - obstructive sleep apnea (on bilevel positive airway pressure/continuous positive airway pressure machine)
pAF (on AC) - paroxysmal atrial fibrillation (on anticoagulation)
PBC - primary biliary cirrhosis
PE - pulmonary embolism
RA - Rheumatoid arthritis
SARS - severe acute respiratory syndrome
SLE - systemic lupus erythematosis
STEMI - ST-segment elevation myocardial infarction aka ischemic heart attack
STD - sexually transmitted disease
TB - Tuberculosis
TBI - traumatic brain injury
TIA - transient ischemic attack aka stroke symptoms that last <24 hours
TMJ - temporomandibular joint disorder
TTP - thrombotic thrombocytopenic purpura
UC - ulcerative colitis
UGIB - upper gastrointestinal bleed
URI - upper respiratory tract infection
UTI - urinary tract infection
VSD - ventricular septal defect

Hearts

Bellarke Fic Week

Day One: Valentine’s Day AU

Clarke leaned against the desk in front of the nurse’s station, head propped up on her hand as she stared at the clock. The last few hours of her shift had ticked by so slowly, and now that she was in the home stretch, she couldn’t help but start dreading the rest of her night. She’d never been much for Valentine’s Day–Groundhog Day was more worthy of celebration in her opinion–but the thought of spending the evening in her cramped apartment with her roommate and her boyfriend was enough to make her want to spend the night in the on-call room.

What she wouldn’t give for coronary artery bypass graft right now.

As if triggered by her thoughts, her attending–Dr. Bellamy Blake–pushed open the doors and snapped his fingers in her direction. “Intern, follow me.”

Clarke huffed, but followed after him. “I have a name, you know.”

“I’m sure you do, Intern.”

Clarke gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to stomp her feet like a child throwing a tantrum. “I may be an intern, but I still deserve the same basic respect that everyone gets around here. I graduated top of my undergraduate and med school classes, I came with excellent recommendations from my professors, and I have worked my ass off to get to where I am. I’ve more than earned my title, and I would really appreciate it if you called me ‘Dr. Griffin.’”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Are you finished, Princess?”

Clarke scowled at the back of his head and pursed her lips. “Yes, Dr. Blake.”

He spun around to face her, Clarke almost running into him after the abrupt stop. “Good, because as your superior, I will refer to you as I see fit. If you’re not satisfied with that, suck it up. You’re a doctor, for crying out loud, not a child. Act like it.” Clarke bit the inside of her cheek and nodded a few times, refusing to look away first. Bellamy nodded once in return. “Now, are you going to get off your high horse and assist me with this aortic valve replacement, or am I going to have to hunt down another intern?”

Clarke blinked a few times, and Bellamy raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for a response. She cleared her throat and looked down at her hands. “I…yes, I would–but… my shift ends in an hour.”

“Got something better to do tonight, Princess?”

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows. This was exactly what she’d been wishing for, an escape from the two lovebirds who’d already broken two coffee tables and a dining room chair in the month they’d been dating, but she didn’t want her asshat of a boss to know that. But she wasn’t about to let Lexa or Monty or God forbid Finn get her surgery, so she swallowed her pride and rolled back her shoulders. “Lead the way, Dr. Blake.”

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so i went to the vortex some months ago and i came across this delicious picture. p: mm mm mm. it was soo good. not only did i stop with that delicious burger, i also had fried plantains and a half order each of fried cheese and kari kari which is like an asian dumpling filled with cream cheese and crab oh and we went back and made homemade donuts. needless to say, my digestive system was thrown off for weeks, if you know what i mean *wink wink* ;) ew that was tmi hahaha

THE CORONARY BYPASS


½ lb of burger topped with a fried egg, two slices of American cheese, three slices of bacon, lettuce, tomato onion and a big fat side of mayonnaise.

all for just $7.95


Gender Inequality in Health Care

Medical researchers were perplexed. Reports were coming in from all over the country: Women were twice as likely to die after coronary bypass surgery. Researchers at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in L.A. checked their own records. They found that of 2,300 coronary bypass patients, 4.6% of women died as a result of the surgery, compared with 2.6% of the men.