Trump will reportedly give up on health care reform if the Republican health care bill does not pass on Friday, according to Politico.
“If the president doesn’t get a vote to repeal and replace Obamacare, he will move on to other priorities,” White House Office of Management and Budget Director Mick Mulvaney said according to NBC News.Read more (3/23/17 10:11 PM)
Lacking the votes within their own party to pass the American Health Care Act, Republican leaders offered a series of proposed changes to woo House conservatives to support the bill.
Repealing essential health benefits guaranteed by the Affordable Care Act. Those benefits include emergency services, hospitalization, mental heath care, prescription drugs and maternity care, among others.
Delaying repeal of ACA tax. The ACA levied a .9% tax on high-income Americans — those making more than $200,000 a year — to help pay for Medicare, according to the New York Times. The earlier version of the AHCA repealed this tax.
Adding money for states to deal with health care costs. Another change would provide states $15 billion to address health care needs — including mental health and substance abuse treatment. Read more (3/24/17 8:23 AM)
Can you write a fix where Betty and Jughead have gone their separate ways but Betty is jugheads emergency contact still and one day jughead gets into a horrible accident and Betty gets a called.
Walking out of the dark office she spent Most of her time in, Betty waved at Lucy, the older receptionist with the turquoise glasses and bright red lipstick.
“See you tomorrow Lucy.” She tugged her dark blue windbreaker tight around her shoulders as the white haired woman smiled
“See you tomorrow Dr.Cooper.”
Betty made her way through the sliding glass doors of the Paws and Pets Veterinarian clinic. She was an accomplished veterinarian and everyone in the town knew of her and loved her, she had saved countless hamsters from their untimely death and she could work magic on a Pomeranian with a cold. Her life was steady and exactly where she wanted it, she was due to open her own clinic in Riverdale, just a town over. While Pembrooke was beautiful, Riverdale would always be her home. So sure, she was content, happy even, but still.. something was missing.
The familiar rainforest ringtone snapped Betty out of her daze and she dug in her coat pocket in search of the offending cause of noise, the thick wool gloves she had on made answering the unknown number fairly difficult, with a triumphant “HA” she finally brought the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” The blonde asked confused, she rarely ever got phone calls from unknown numbers, they usually just called the clinic.
“Hello, is this Elizabeth Cooper?” The voice was serious and deep.
“Yes. That’s me , can I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Riverdale Emergency hospital, I’m calling in regards to Jughead Jones, you’re listed as his emergency contact. There’s been an accident, Im going to need..” Betty slammed the phone shut as she hopped in her car, speeding through every red light, that dared come in her way.
After an incredibly anxious fifteen minute ride, Betty slammed through the doors of the hospital, her eyes searching frantically for anyone who seemed to be working at the hospital.
“Hello?!” She called desperately. “Someone please! I need to see Jughead.. Jughead Jones.” She pushed though people, grabbing anyone. Suddenly she felt a warm hand smooth over her shoulder
“You can come with me ms.Cooper.” A middle aged male nurse, tugged her gently towards the waiting area and sat her down, handing her a cup of water and speaking quietly
“Mr.Jones’ doctor will be out very soon, for now, relax here.” He smiled again and walked the opposite way, leaving Betty with shaking hands and wandering thoughts.
Six years. It had been six years since she had heard from Jughead Jones. Six years since they had broken up and promised to keep in touch, but life got in the way, Betty’s schoolwork, Jughead new found popularity after he became a NewYork Times bestselling author. They just drifted apart. That didn’t mean she didn’t own every single copy of every single book he had written, notes scattered in the margins. But here she was, sitting in a hospital waiting for news on her first love, her heart racing in her chest, stomach in knots.
She whipped around at the voice and rushed over to the tall man In the doctors scrubs.
“Is he okay? What happened? Can i see him? If you let him die I will sue you for everything, my best friend is Veronica Lodge, best lawyer in all of NewYork.” She threatened, her eyes filling with tears.
“Ms.Cooper, Jughead is fine. He was in a minor motorcycle accident, the extent of his injuries is a broken arm. You can go in and see him.” He stepped aside with a knowing smile and right before Betty breezed past him, she turned around.
“His medical records, are they old? Do you maybe still have his emergency contact from high school?” She questioned, her voice the picture of faux steady and cool.
The doctor smiled softly
“Actually Mr.Jones just came in last month to update his records, he still signed you as his emergency contact.”
Betty stared for a moment longer, her eyes somewhere far away, somewhere colored with leather jackets and strawberry milkshakes, a hidden smile appearing on her face before she raced down the hall.
Slamming the door to his hospital room open, she smiled when she saw him attempting to wrap his flannel over the sling on his arm.
“I hope that’s not your writing hand.” She spoke softly, still causing him to jump and turn quickly, his eyes widening when he saw Betty standing in the doorway.
“Betty?” He asked confused, his eyes wide in awe and looking desperately handsome in his scruffy bearded glory, she was struck by how similar he looked to his father.
“the doctor called. I’m your emergency contact remember?” She smiled and took a seat on the bed beside him.
He groaned and smacked his good hand to his forehead
“This hardly constitutes an emergency, I’m so sorry Betty.” He blushed light pink and looked away.
“Hey.” She brought his attention back to her “ im happy they called me. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you and I didn’t know.. I didn’t..” she trailed off, her fingers moving to dig into her palms, even after all these years she still hadn’t dropped the habit.
Jughead was quick to catch it, just like he always had been, enveloping both of her hands with his.
“I’m okay.” He whispered, eyes burning into hers.
“When they called me I was so scared.. I thought something really bad had happened.. I thought I had lost you and I never even had the Chance…” she trailed off
Jughead brought his fingers to her chin, tilting it up so her eyes met his again
“Had the chance to what?” He urged her to finish, her dark grassy green eyes met his ocean blue and after a second she mumbled something suspiciously similar to
And her lips were on his, his good arm gripping her waist, while her hands buried themselves in his hair. It was like two ships coming to dock. It was one of those lifetime original movie moments. Romeo and Juliet reunited and no one had to die.
When Jughead pulled away he panted, resting his forehead against Betty’s
“I come three times a year to make sure you’re still my emergency contact, I wouldn’t want anyone else but you by my side.” He whispered into the quiet air, his nose nuzzling hers as he breathed in her familiar scent. She was home to him, no matter how long it took he had always known he would come back home.
“Next time you want to see me, just call. You don’t have to get into a motorcycle accident every time. Your insurance will skyrocket.” She giggled and he grinned, pressing his lips to hers again
Residents in the city of Taiz must risk their lives to seek medical care. The conflict, which has been active since March 2015, has included the bombing of hospitals, gunfire directed at ambulances, and the harassment of health workers. Today, there are no public hospitals in Taiz city or its surroundings that are fully open and functioning.
Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) works on both sides of the front lines in Taiz, running a trauma center for war-wounded and a mother and child hospital in the Al-Houban neighborhood. MSF also supports departments in four hospitals inside the city center, two of them for emergency treatment of the wounded and the others supporting maternal and pediatric health care.
Homelessness as it exists in cities just isn’t an issue in small towns. If you lose your housing in a small town there’s a good chance you have friends and family there who can at least give you a place to crash. So when you hear people talking about the homeless, you either think they must be lazy fuck-ups who need to get a grip on their bootstraps, or they just need to walk over to the local church for some charitable aid to help them get a grip on those bootstraps.
In cities, homeless people exist in population sizes bigger than most rural towns – Los Angeles has an estimated 47,000 people with no place to go. New York City has over 60,000, and that’s lowballing it. That means if you took the entire population of South Dakota’s capital city and cloned them three times, they would still be outnumbered by New York City’s homeless population.
Did you know most homeless rely on hospital emergency rooms for care? Simply giving them a place to live cuts down on health problems and visits to the ER – ultimately saving taxpayers money, instead of having to pay more to watch people die on the streets. So it’s not just a case of bleeding heart liberals, wanting to save the world … it’s just as much a case of, “This person keeps crapping on my doorstep. I’d like this to stop. And also, instead of using my tax dollars to pay for a $20,000 surgery, how about we spend a fraction of that amount on basic preventative care?”
this week I went to training. I know I held my new mask in one hand and my old,
dented one, in my other. The thought of taking my new one to training crossed
my mind but I didn’t: “No.. It will only get dents and then I will not be able
to compete with that mask.”
I put my old mask in the bag, the bag on my back together with Bengt (my sword,
that is) and went to training on my bicycle. Just like any Tuesday I and Carl
held our training for kids. It went pretty well, the kids being more focused
then they use to be.
After the kids training I realized that our training would be full of people. More
than it has been in quite a while. Of course I love when our trainings are
crowded with people. But, I don’t like too many human beings in a restricted
area. I’m not saying that our training hall is small, it’s just not really
large either. Anyhow, I wasn’t in the mood for all that people that day. I
sighed, tried to get that feeling of me and started to warmup along with the
others. We went through some basic thrusting techniques. Carl adjusted my hip
movement and told me how to thrust together with my hip. This was a real
eye-opener, in a moment it was so much easier for me to thrust! Cool. I
repeated a couple of times. Then Carl said: Put your gear on!
I didn’t really felt like it to be honest. It was one of those days when
everything was a big “Meeeeeh”. I went over for my gear anyway. Put everything
on, pointed out a sparring partner and began at Carl’s command. The first round
went ok. I wasn’t frustrated and quite relaxed, despite my lack of motivation.
After the first round we had like 30 seconds pause to find a new partner to
spar with. Said and done. The bell rang again. If I remember it correctly I won
the first exchange, but to be honest I don’t really know. I went to my corner,
turned around for the second exchange and faced my opponent. I went in, trying
to find a hole in his defense. It didn’t take long at all, BLAM. A hard oberhau
against the top of my head. I know I said: OUCH. Something didn’t feel alright.
He looked at me and asked: Are you okay?
I thought I were, that the hit was only a bit harder than I expected.
I went back to the wall. Feeling something warm dripping in my face. I looked
down and saw some blood drops on the floor, dripping slowly from my mask. I
thought to myself: Well, it’s just a scratch. Not so bad, maybe I need a
plaster. I thought it would take off. It didn’t.
My mask with the blood inside
blood started to pour down with increasing speed. I realized this was bad.
First I stood alone turned against the wall. Others came next to me, looking at
my face. Someone yelled: CALL AN AMBULANCE repeatedly. I saw a big pool of
blood on the floor, but at the moment I was pretty calm in the situation.
Someone told me to lay down, I did. I saw Carl who looked at me and said: That
needs to be sewn. Then he went after the first aid kit. At that moment I had
very hard to realize what actually happened. I said something like: COOOL. Now
I will get a badass jacket, with blood on it! Just like Carl’s! And a nice scar
to, like Harry Potter. But the words stitches rang in my head: Nooo it can’t be
My bloody jacket.
held my legs high and the guy who hit me try to stop the blood pouring out of
my forehead. Someone put a bandage on my forehead with the help of my sparring
partner who asked me how many fingers and noses he held up. I almost started to
laugh, thinking he was silly. Had to tell him that: It’s ok. I can see! By this
time they also made the decision that an ambulance wasn’t needed and that
someone could drive me to the emergency center.
Someone helped me out of my fencing jacket, my
new white jacket, while I was laying down.
They collected my training stuff as I was laying there. I went up, saw the
blood on the floor that had been pouring out while I was laying down. It looked
like a lot.
Before we went I wanted to have Bengt with me. Carl looked at me and said: No,
he can stay here this time.
Unwillingly I gave Bengt to Jesper. Jesper looked at Bengt in a somewhat distasteful
manner. I looked at Bengt and understood why, it was blood on him as well. Everything
happened fast, but still very slow. Like everything were moving in slow-motion.
Carl drove me there.
Me at the emergency center
took a look on me after like, 30 minutes or so. Took the bandage off and gave
it a look, put some new bandage on and showed us to the waiting room. We sat
there for 2-3 hours before it was my turn to get stitched up. We were
supervised to a treatment room, the doctor came in and asked me what had
happened. I explained. She looked at me like I was some kind of lunatic. “But
you had a mask, right?”
Me after they put on some new bandages.
course I had!
She were still a bit skeptic. “Aren’t they supposed to take this kind of hits`?”
Carl explained that these kind of injuries never occurred in our club before,
and maybe just 1-2 times during competitions. The doctor explained she had to
check if I got a concussion by checking out my nerve system. Had to follow her
finger with my eyes and things like that.
Luckily I was fine, I just had a big hole in my head. Now it was the time to
stitch me up.
They started to talk about which needle to use. Shit just got real.
I started to feel sick and began to sweat. I told them that, and they put a bag
next to me if I needed to throw up. They took a needle up to give me some
anesthesia straight to my forehead. This was very uncomfortable, I felt the
needle all the way through. It was like something try to rip the skin of my
forehead away. Euck. Until it worked, then I didn’t feel a shit. It was just
nasty and a very bizarre situation. Especially when they both stick their
finger in my wound to see if my bone was crushed. Then they started to sew. I
just wanted to go home now. It took forever. And I was certain that it would be
like 2 stitches. I ended up with five. Carl told me in beforehand that the
wound was like his thumb, 5 cm or so, in beforehand. But I still didn’t think
that it would end up with five stitches.
I felt like I was going to faint or something while they were sewing, but I
didn’t. When they were done they gave me some lemonade and I could get home.
The stitches will be removed on Monday. I’m ok and most of all: I’m happy that
it didn’t got worse.
With this story in mind I want to tell you all:
Check your gear. Take care of each other and always wear a mask. Don’t ever
take things for granted. Ok?
My mask after the accident. It had massive dents in beforehand and I will never, ever train with a dented mask again. Neither should you.
you’re a doctor who finds bucky in an alley way, bleeding out. you help him, and get way more than you ever asked for. (based on this request.)
word count: 5.7K
pairing: bucky x reader
warnings: angst, fluff, open ending, bad writing
a/n: listen, i dont think this is good buti hope this is what ya wanted. there’s no smut in this, sorry my dudes :/ i left this ending kind of open and abrupt, so if y’all want a second part, i can write it.
I am a 19 year old girl living in Colorado, USA. I am studying criminal justice in college. I really love relaxing and listening to music. My favorite music type is more alternative and some of my favorite bands are The 1975, BORNS, Arctic Monkeys, The Neighbourhood, Twenty One Pilots, Alt-J, and Glass Animals. I currently work at a hospital in the emergency room and I love it! I also binge watch Netflix, and my current show of choice is Dexter. I love meeting and talking to new people, so don’t be afraid to contact me!
Summary: You and Spencer are kidnapped and you are tortured.
Warnings: Explicit torturing and angst.
Pairings: Spencer x Reader and a bit Platonic Derek x Reader.
So I just want to say thank you for 236 followers! Yay! I know this is not a massive milestone but every little bit counts. :)
So please if your a new follower and you want me to write something, talk to me about something, anything really, shoot me a message.
I really hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Stay safe guys x
“You can kill me. You can torture me. You can rip me apart limb from limb. But for the love of God please don’t touch her.” Spencer’s voice echoed through the empty room. The man standing between you and him merely chuckling.
You screamed out as another lash landed on your bare back. Your body arched forward, trying to pull as much away from it as possible, but your restraints kept you firmly in the same place. Your arms were tied above your head and your feet just touched the ground.
Fifth day of hell.
Spencer stiffened and pulled violently on the restraints that kept him station to a pole.
“Please! Stop!” he screamed out. “Please. Please!”
A/N: This is another editions from my personal collection, the reason I’m re-doing these is because of the babby fever taking over me, and the best way not to give in to it is writing about it, or in this case edit an old fic.
[Feedback is the best way to show your love!]
Super Big Brother
“Ok then,” you sigh and Dean nods rapidly as he speaks. “We’ll go straight to the point. We need to be direct with him, he’s a big boy.”
“Yeah,” you agree a little out of breath. “He can take it, right?” Dean eyes widen in doubt and your shoulders drop. “What if he can’t take it? Oh my goodness, he’s still a baby. My baby. This is all a mistake.”
You start to hyperventilate, Dean’s quick to rub your arms up and down. “Look at me,” he says in a sweet voice, you comply. “Is gonna be fine, he’s gonna be fine.” He bites his lower lip and you wonder how did you get so lucky.
“Okay, we’re telling him and we’ll answer any question he has.” Taking a deep breath you look back into Dean’s eyes. “What kind of questions can a three year-old make, huh?”
Dean shrugs, his arms let go of you and he pushes away from the kitchen table he’d been leaning on. You follow his lead and start walking behind him out the kitchen and down the hall.
“Wait!” you shout and run back to the kitchen, Dean stands in the middle of the corridor dumbfounded.
“Uh, sweetheart?” Dean takes a few steps your way when you rush out the door almost bumping into him, sippy cup with chocolate milk in one hand, a plate with some homemade oatmeal cookies in the other.
“Let’s go.” You nod ahead for him to lead the way one more time.
Dean’s eyes on the plate and he goes for one of the cookies. He groans when you smack his hand away away. “They’re not for you! You can have one later, I made a whole tray today.”
Dean grins like a three year-old and you roll your eyes.