Imagine waiting for almost a year for the Doctor to come back, and when he does, you get so mad at him that you actually shove him down a grassy hill. In a panic, he pulls you down with him and you both roll down it together. When you land, him laying beneath you, he gets really quiet and stares up at you like your the stars overhead.

“I missed you…”
“Whose fault is that, huh? It’s been a year, Doctor! A year!”
“And yet, you still haven’t changed. Are you sure it’s been a year?”
“It’s been 340 days. I counted. Everyday. Waiting for you and your bow tie to show up around here.”
“Ah… My mistake.”

(#imnotdead)

2

Medical Hints, Designed for the Use of Clergymen, and Others, in Places Where Professional Advice Cannot Be Immediately Procured, 1820

This disease is almost confined to females of an irritable nervous system, the single more than the married, from the age of fifteen, to thirty-five or forty.

They are readily excited in those who are subject to the, by passions of the mind, and sometimes they come on from imitation and sympathy.

“In 2001, my mother gave birth to a triplet in Burao. Only one survived after the birth. We found comfort in the fact that at least one of them survived but the comfort didn’t last that long. Once he turned one, he contracted meningitis. There was lack of solid medical facilities and no proper medications to treat him. I was very much attached to him and was at his side for most of the time. My mother kept bringing him to this small medical facility, thinking they would fix him. One day she returned alone. I figured they hospitalised him, and he was getting better, but she told me that he didn’t make it and died in the hospital. I cried myself to sleep that day. The following day, I delicately washed his body, and we buried him. It was there and then that I decided I wanted to become a doctor. Once I finished my medical course, inexperienced but full of energy, I moved to Erigabo where I heard that there is not a single doctor there. It was a risky endeavour, but I was determined. My first patient was a poor Somali mother. She was wearing rags and was in active labour. She told me that she didn’t have much and didn’t know where to go. Her husband wanders day and night to bring whatever food he can find to the table, and she was afraid to deliver her unborn child in the cold streets.  I quickly ordered proper medications, fed her and delivered the baby via caesarean section. She left after a couple days, happy that she was alive, and her child was healthy. A year later, a child with a bad case of diarrhoea was brought to me. I asked for his name and found out that he had the exact same name as me. Bear in mind that I have a unique name. I jokingly said that he stole my name. The child’s mother looked at me, laughingly asked me whether I remember her. She said I was the poor lady that you helped a year ago, and I named my son after you.”

(Erigabo)

“Sanadkii 2001, hooyaday waxay Burco ku dhashay saddex mataano. Saddexdii mataanaha, inan baa ka so hadhay. Alxamdulillah, inu ugu yaraan mid badbaaday, Ilaahay u mahadnaqay. Inankii sanad marku jiray, waxaa ku dhacay xanuunka la yidhaahdo meningitis ama qoorgooye. Burco waxaanan ka jirin xarumo caafimaad oo tayo leh. Runti, inanka aad baan u jeclaa oo markasta waan ka welweli jiray. Dareen aad u balaadhan ii galiyey, tolow suu noqonaya. Hooyadayna, isbuuc kasta ayee u ka lihi jirtay isbitaalka sidee inanka wax looga qabto. Maalin maalmaha ka mid ah, waxaan arkaya ayadoo soo noqotay oo inanka la socon. Waxay ii sheegtay inu geeriyooday, qadarta Alle ay tahay. Maalintaas oohin baan la seexan waayey. Subaxii marku waagu beryay, inankii waan meedhay waana aasnay. Ciidi markaan ku rogay baan go’aan ku gaadhay inaan dhakhtar noqdo. Markaan dhameeyey koorsadii caafimaad, oo aan lahayn tabar buuxda, waxaan maqlay in Ceerigaabo aysan lahayn dhakhatar ka hawlgala. Dabadeedna waxaan go’aansaday inaan Ceerigaabo u guuro. Qofka kowaad ii imaado waxay ahayd hooyo Soomaaliyeed oo danyar ah. Dirac yar oo shiid xidhneed iyo dacas. Waxay ahayd hooyo uur leh, sagaalkii bilood ku jirta, teeda labaadna fool ku haysa. Hooyadana deetana waxay igu tidhi, inaysan aduun haysan oo meel ay aado la’dahay. Xaajigeedana inu maalin iyo habeen warwareego, su cunto u raadiyo, ayna aad ka baqayso iney ilmaheeda uurka ku jira banaanka ku dhasho. Waxaan u dalbaday dawadii u baahneed, cunto siiyey, dabadeedna qaliin baan ku sameeyey. Sidee ku caafimaadee, sideedi ku baxday. Sanad kadib, waxaa la ii keenay ilma yar oo shubmaya. Magaciisa la ii sheegay, oo isku magac baanu noqonay. Kaftan ahaan, waxaan idhi, ninkaan magacayga igu qaatay. Deetana hooyadii inanka way qososhay, waxay tidhi, ‘ma ii garanee’. Waxay ii sheegtay inay gabadhii maalinta ahayd, inankaygana adiga kugu magacdaray.”

(Ceerigaabo)

A Fat Story

The other day I had a doctor’s appointment. It was a follow up for a sleep study I had completed a few weeks ago. I’ve been trying to find out why I am so exhausted and fatigued no matter how much sleep I get. I recently slept 20 hours in a day without wanting to. I often can’t do anything I enjoy because I’m sleeping or too tired to get up from my chair. I’ve been struggling with this my whole life and it’s not getting any better no matter what I try.

So I was talking to the doctor. I gave her a recap of a normal day. I explained how I can fall asleep anywhere; out, at home, on the couch, in a chair, etc. How my body sleeps for 16+ hours without an alarm. How it’s interfering with my job, my hobbies, and my mental health.

And she says to me: “you just need to exercise. Go right after work and you’ll feel better.”

And I’m thinking to myself- would you say this to a thin person?

I was so appalled because I work so incredibly hard to practice self care. I try to get to bed early so I’m not nodding off while listening to clients. I struggle to do the things I like but I try because my job is stressful. It’s an accomplishment when I’m able to leave the house for work and groceries. I haven’t been able to exercise, which I do want to do, because I feel so exhausted all the time.

But apparently it isn’t enough. To her, it’s like none of my struggle means anything. I deserve to be at least tested for other possible diseases and not be talked down upon.

Imagine the Doctor accidentally walking in on you while your changing. Then, for the entire remainder of the time you know him, each time you mention it, or even tell him you’re going to get dressed, he spaces out with wide eyes.

“Alright I’m gonna go change now, Doctor. Sound good?”
“0.0…”
“Doc… C'mon, we talked about this… Hellooooo? … Doctor!”
“Wut?”
“*sigh*”

::::Autonomic dysreflexia::::
This is a paroxysmal syndrome of hypertension, hypohydrosis (above level of injury), bradycardia , flushing and headache in response to noxious visceral and other stimului.
It is most commonly triggered by bladder distension or rectal loading from fecal impaction.

Autonomic dysreflexia develops in individuals with a neurologic level of spinal cord injury at or above the sixth thoracic vertebral level (T6). Autonomic dysreflexia causes an imbalanced reflex sympathetic discharge, leading to potentially life-threatening hypertension.

T6 is of particular importance in the pathogenesis of autonomic dysreflexia. The splanchnic vascular bed is one of the body’s largest reserves of circulatory volume and is controlled primarily by the greater splanchnic nerve. This important nerve derives its innervation from T5-T9. Lesions to the spinal cord at or above T6 allow the strong and uninhibited sympathetic tone to constrict the splanchnic vascular bed, causing systemic hypertension. Lesions below T6 generally allow enough descending inhibitory parasympathetic control to modulate the splanchnic tone and prevent hypertension.

Treatment:- avoid urinary and fecal retention.
Control BP:-
Alpha1 blocker
Calcium channel blocker (nifedipine)

#hypertension #neurology #neuroscience #nephrology #medicine #usmle #usmlestep1 #doctor #doctordconline #nhs #nurse #nursing #hospital #patient #amc #plab @doctordconline

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Imagine going to a haunted house with a few of your friends. You all scream and freak out when a trap door is opened on the floor in front of you. That is; until you see the bow tie.

“Doctor?! What are you doing here?!”
“Oooh, you should’ve seen the look on your faces.”
-“Wait, you know this guy?”
“Yeah, actually I do. Can’t I have a weekend to myself, Doctor? It’s Halloween, for TARDIS’ sake!”
“Well I’m sorry! I saw a haunted house and a costume, I couldn’t say no!”
“You’re not wearing any costume, what are you talking about?”
“Well in all fairness, it didn’t exactly fit, but that’s why it was implied! Didn’t you hear the yo-ho-ho? Seriously, am I going mad, or does no one listen to me?!”
“Okay, that’s enough complaining, Doctor. Get out of that dirty hole, you’ll trip.”
“No, no way. I’ve just started.”
“*face palm*”

Imagine having recently started dating the Doctor and having already expressed your desire to “get jiggy” with him. He’s already said no, not because he doesn’t want to (he REALLY wants to) but because the whole different species thing adds “complications” that could be “unpredictable”. Imagine continuously making innuendoes to try and change his mind. Imagine his smirk every time his resistance crumbles just a little bit from your words.

“I’m a little busy!”
“You and I COULD be getting busy right now, you know. In private.”
“*gif* Stop it, you.”

(Is this too PG-13? XD What even is this blog rated? Do blogs have ratings? I don’t even know anymore ;D)