genetic abnormalities

I have a story for everyone.

My Mom is a mutant.

To be specific, she has a disorder called Factor V Laiden Thrombophilia (same as me *waves*), a genetic mutation that causes abnormal clotting of the blood. When treated appropriately (I can never take birth control, I’ll develop complications if I ever get pregnant if I’m not careful, and in situations such as long flights I have to make sure to move around as often as possible), it’s manageable.

There’s always a very real sense of danger, however. See, blood clots can form anywhere in the body, and *move* anywhere if not caught quickly enough. If it moves to the heart or the brain, you’re screwed, plain and simple. Even if it doesn’t, and it just stays in your leg and eventually goes away, for example, it leaves damage that is often irreparable.

Fifteen years ago, when my Mom was pregnant with my youngest sister and what would have been her twin, she developed a bloodclot in her left leg. It was late enough in her term that attempting to get rid of it would have meant terminating the pregnancy, and my Mom, after asking if she would die from it and being told no, decided to not go through with the procedure. She lost one of the twins, gave birth to my baby sister, and ever since then has lived with a disability that puts her in constant pain.

The first time I saw her with her bad leg, it was when I was six-years-old. She came home with my little sister–I had to hold her since my Mom needed crutches to get around. She screamed the entire time she walked down the hallway to her room. It hurt her that badly. I’ve never felt more helpless in my entire life. The sound of her crying like that has never ever left me.

The best way to describe the physical atttributes of her leg would be like taking a hot knife and stripping off all the skin of your lower leg. Among the symptoms she’s had for over a decade include: swelling to the point that she’s torn pants, weeping–which means the wound on her leg that never goes away because of the poor bloodflow leaks fluid–to the point that she has to wrap a towel around it, bleeding, the skin cracking and falling off on a regular basis, a higher chance of getting infections (in the past four years, she’s had two staph infections, one of which resulted in an emergency room visit), and the almost complete assurance that in the next ten years, she’ll be completely wheelchair bound.

She raised me and my three other siblings on her own with that disability after my Dad left and our extended family stopped giving a shit about us, and as often as she frustrates me, I want to be able to help her. She has done *so* much for me, and seeing her in pain every single day, having her crying in bed because she thinks nobody will ever love her again because of her bad leg, seeing her cycle through seasons of depression only to fight back with everything she has, seeing the look of hope when she finds something that might fix her leg only to learn that it’s too expensive to get the treatment, kills me. Knowing that it’ll only get worse without proper help hurts more than I can properly articulate. She isn’t the perfect mother, not by a long shot, but I love her and I want to be able to help.

The thing with her leg nowadays is that the bloodclot is gone. It has been for about a decade. It’s the damage it did to the veins that remains. We have yet to encounter a doctor willing to attempt surgery to replace the damaged vein, and everything else has been more for dealing with it than actively trying to find a solution.

We have found one possible one, however. An oxygen treatment that has been proven to help restore bloodflow. The problem is, the treatment is expensive and considered experimental, so it isn’t covered by our insurance.

You’re probably wondering where I’m trying to get at with all of this. It’s simple. One treatment costs 150 dollars, and my Mom would need to do about eight of those in the span of a few months to see any actual improvement. I want to change that. I want to be able to go up to her, tell her, “I’ll handle paying for the oxygen treatments to fix your leg.” I want to be able to see some hope on her face again, instead of the near-constant acceptance that she can’t change it no matter how hard she wants to.

I’m still just that six-year-old kid that wants to help her Mom. The only difference is, I’m not helpless anymore.

On my Patreon, I make a grandiose show of how I want it to help launch my career as a professional writer, which is true, but nestled deep in those descriptions is one throwaway line about helping to pay for medical bills. I didn’t delve deeper into how on there, since as this post shows it gets rather long-winded, but of the many medical bills that comes with this family, the need for my Mom to get this treatment is starting to creep higher and higher. She’s already showing signs of being unable to walk, and her leg is slowly but surely getting worse. Her doctors have even started talking about possible amputation if there isn’t any improvement.

In short, I’m asking you guys for help, because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to see my Mom in pain anymore. I know how to help her, but since losing about $500 worth of income last month, my paychecks go towards the bills and such that we already have. I haven’t been able to save like I used to, and the longer we wait the less likely we’ll be able to fix anything.

I need your help, guys. My Mom needs your help. I know this is a longshot. I know I’m not popular, I’m not beloved in a way that warrants having money thrown at me for no good reason, my creations are still fledgling, I know there are people out there that have it so much worse, but I’m still taking this chance. I’m coming with my nose pressed to the ground before you in supplication, and asking from the bottom of my heart: please, help my family.

Whether this story warrants that is beyond me, but stories are all I have.

If you can offer anything, thank you. If all you can do is read this, thank you. There isn’t any guilt here. It’s simply a story and a question from someone with nowhere else to turn. Those don’t always need responses.

What An Abortion Is And Isn’t

First Off:

People have a right to complete bodily autonomy and this includes abortion


Saying that having an abortion because of a fetal abnormality / genetic defect is akin to eugenics or genocide is ghoulish and gross.

An abortion is not:

  • A statement about the validity of the lives of the disabled
  • A statement about the actual or perceived value of disabled to society
  • A statement about you as a disabled person
  • A statement about the value of the lives of people with specific types of disabilities 
  • Ableist, racist, or any other kind of “-ist” or “-ism”

An abortion is:

  • The termination of a pregnancy
  • A choice
  • A right 

The reason someone chooses to have an abortion is:

  • None of your fucking business 

im on my second full playthrough and for shits and giggles i took grunt on miranda’s loyalty mission. there’s a moment when miranda talks about being genetically engineered and being a legacy and idk if its just the animation but it really looks like grunt is surprised and empathetic with her situation. it got me thinking about how they both were created for a different purpose, and the mission they’re on and their relationships with shepard force them to confront the possibility that their purpose can’t really be fulfilled. 

i just imagine miranda having trouble focusing after the mission, freaking out about her misjudgment with niket, and going to grunt just to talk about legacies~ and genetic engineering and grunt is gruff but secretly really pleased. he occasionally hangs out in her office when he’s feeling particularly aggressive because she’s a calming, big-sisterly presence who is both a powerful warrior and a genetic abnormality designed to be “perfect” just like him.

I Break All The Rules For You

want a speculative scene from the finale that’s just angst and cuddling? okay so you don’t but like three people did so here it is.

here on ao3

His hand skimmed her stomach, whenever they were together like this they were in constant contact. Sometimes it was about greed, impatience, desperation, but in the last hours of their time, the sun starting to rise, it was soft, slow, warm, if not occasionally desperate for a different reason.

Nick’s pointer finger found a spot on her hip and followed it. A stretchmark that was one of the only reminders that she’d carried Hannah. She only had a few, her doctor told her it was genetics and a little bit of luck that she didn’t have more. 

June sighed and tucked her head under his chin. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to hear her at all so she didn’t move away, her lips against his chest when she spoke.

“Maybe I’ll miscarry.” 

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The Fortune Bay Sea Monster was a globster that washed ashore on August 21st, 2001. It washed up on a beach in St. John’s, Newfoundland. The Department of Fisheries and Oceans collected samples from the carcass and it was examined at the Memorial University of Newfoundland’s biology department. DNA results came back as an almost perfect match with a sperm whale. The differences were basic genetic abnormalities between one sperm whale and another. Sperm Whale carcasses make up a large percent of globster sightings. 


Ectodermal dysplasia is not a distinct disorder in itself, but a term used to describe a variety of syndromes that present with similar abnormalities relating to ectodermal structures such as the hair, teeth, nails, skin, sweat and salivary glands. The congenital absence of teeth, or teeth that are peg shaped, are one of the better known features of these syndromes, but they can also present with thin, sparse and fragile hair, abnormally shaped and brittle nails, an inability to perspire, as well as vision problems such as cataracts and problems with hearing.

More than 150 different syndromes have been identified, but the condition is still exceptionally rare with only 7,000 people globally having be diagnosed with an ectodermal dysplasia syndrome. While it is caused by genetic mutations, there is a substantial degree of homogeneity in relation to the genetic causes despite the similar presentation of the syndromes. 

Title: Living In Your Hell
Author: archofimagine
Artist: kamicom
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega, unwanted turning (via scent), a somewhat severe prejudice against alphas and omegas, some jerk characters that are normally nice (like Kevin), mpreg
Posting Date: 10/11/2017

Summary:  Omegas aren’t born. Everyone is born either Beta or Alpha (the high majority being Beta), and the only way Omegas are created is if turned by an Alpha in rut. Because of this fear of being turned, Alphas spotted out during their rut are often shot on sight to protect Betas. Castiel befriends a kid named Sam during his final year of high school. Sam is hated and treated like an outcast because his brother is an Alpha, but Cas learns that the brother does all he can to stay locked up during a rut, trying to prevent accidental turnings or his own death.

Unfortunately, since it’s so rare, no one is taught about ‘true mates’ and the fact that a Beta can turn just from the scent of said mate. Castiel wakes up one morning in the hospital, as an Omega, and finds out that the idiot he witnessed hitting on girls (badly) at a random bar… is now his mate.

- - -

“Freak,” Kevin mumbled from next to Cas. Castiel turned to his friend, only to realize that Kevin was also looking at Sam. Kevin met Cas’ gaze, “You know why they live on the outskirts, right?”

Castiel shook his head — he had hardly heard anything about the Winchester family.

Adam joined in on the conversation, “You mean the freaks? You haven’t heard, Cas? Sammy Winchester has a brother.”

Apparently he wasn’t seeing the point. “So?” Castiel also had a brother… two, in fact.

“His brother is an alpha.”

His eyes grew big and Castiel turned to look first at Adam, and then Kevin. “No fucking way.” He searched their faces, looking for any sign that they were shittin’ him. “You’re lying.”

Kevin shook his head, “Nope. He’s a few years older and popped his knot one day at school. Lots of drama and panic — word is, their parents ditched them with a crazy uncle that lives in the woods, when they found out. Can’t say I blame them — I definitely wouldn’t want people knowing I had an alpha kid.”

In his eighteen years on earth, Castiel had only heard of three alphas, all older men that lived in his hometown and had mated young. Enough time had passed in history that the genetic abnormality that created alphas was almost obsolete. After a hundred years, a universe of alphas, betas, and omegas, had been overtaken by mostly betas. In fact, the only way to create an omega any more, was for an alpha to mate someone while in rut… which is exactly why people feared them so much. Once a month alphas were all but uncontrollable, and would follow their senses until they found the perfect beta to claim as their mate and turn without the beta’s willing consent.

More often than not, if an unmated alpha was seen in public during their rut, the authorities would simply shoot the alpha to prevent any unnecessary turnings.

A car horn beeped and the three boys turned to see Adam’s mom parked up the drive a bit, as they began walking towards the car, Adam glanced over at Kevin, “I heard they have a dungeon.”

Kevin nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah. They lock him up during his rut — underground dungeon with no smells, that’s how they keep him from getting shot.”

“That’s insane,” Castiel mumbled. He thought about Sammy Winchester and couldn’t imagine having to lock his own brothers up to protect them; watching them slowly suffer for a week.

“This is bullshit.” Marco closed his eyes and leaned back as Ace pushed himself up and away from the table.  It was inevitable, his outburst.  The government had started up their witch hunts again forcing their family to lay low.  Or as Ace saw it, forcing them to hide.

“It’s shit that we are forced to fucking duck out like rats just because we’re, we’re.”

“Different?” Izo offered.


Beside Marco, Edward Newgate sighed.  It wasn’t the first time Ace had an outburst like that.  It’s not even the worst he had been but it was still rough, when he got like this.  There was almost no reasoning with him.  But to let him go on would make it worst.  It’s no secret Ace had a temper, could be very harsh to other around him.  It definitely wasn’t a secret that he was hardest on himself.  

“Calm down Ace, there is no point in getting so worked up.  We’re safe, you don’t have to be afraid.” Marco stood, placing his hand on Ace’s shoulder.

“I’m not afraid of them!”  He snapped jerking away from Marco’s touch.  “It’s them” he pointed out the window “they should be afraid of us!”  Marco’s eyes followed the flame that licked up Ace’s arm before meeting his eyes.

“A lot of them already are.  A lot of them are for good reason.”  Ace stilled, his gaze even with Marco’s.  “Do you really want to be like the ones that make them afraid?  Do you want to be like Akainu?”  Ace bit his lip and looked down.  “Like Blackbeard?”  He flinched and turned away.  Ace looked to Thatch, as he rolled away from the table in his wheelchair.  No, never like them.

“Sorry.”  Ace whispered and Marco sighed.

“We are all feeling stressed my son.”  Newgate stood up and walked over to the two by the window.  “It’s okay to be angry Ace.  Let me assure you, you’re not the only one.”  Gently he moved his hand under Ace’s chin and tilted his head up so their eyes met.  “But don’t let your anger be what guides you, don’t like it control you.”  Ace nodded and Newgate smiled.

“It’s getting late, you’ll all benefit from some rest.”  Their heads snapped to the new voice to see Sabo leaning against the door frame.  Ace snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Is it already past our bedtime, mom?”  Ace walked over and slapped Sabo on his shoulder and his brother scoffed.

“For you it certainly is, narcoleptic.  Last thing you want is to ruin your schedule.”  Sabo slung his arm around his brother’s shoulder.  Ace pushed him away telling him to shut it.  “Would you like me to tuck you in or perhaps read you a bedtime story.  I do remember you like the one about the bear I use to tell Luffy.”  Ace’s cheeks flushed and made a grab for Sabo but said brother of his ducked away laughing as he ran upstairs of the chosen safehouse.  

Newgate shook his head.  Safehouse to anyone but Ace’s brother.  He didn’t know how Sabo always seemed to know where Ace was but Newgate chose not to dwell on it for his own sanity’s sake.  He often was thankful for the brother’s rather sporadic appearances.  Often relied on them on stressful days like so.

Marco was good a quelling Ace’s anger, good at talking him out of his own head.  Newgate was even better but neither of them matched up to Sabo.  Sabo knew, or at least seemed to know, the inner workings of Ace’s mind.  Ace assured that the only ‘genetic abnormality’ Sabo possessed was the uncanny ability to be a smart ass the majority of the time.  Marco swore that his ‘powers’ was the ability to read Ace and he just wouldn’t admit it.

“He’s right though, it’s bullshit.”  Thatch spoke solemnly, breaking Newgate from his musings.  “I’m just a normal guy who has nothing to worry about but even I feel angry.”  He sighed looking down to his lap, hand rubbing his knee.  “They try so hard to weed out everyone they can, people, kids who pose no threat to them and then they turn around and go employ the real monsters.”  He let out a hollow laugh before whispering “it’s bullshit.”

He snapped his head up when Izo placed a hand on his shoulder.  Thatch mustered up a tired smile, placing his hand over the other’s.  “I think it’s time for you to try and get some sleep as well.”

“Oh am I really being that depressing?”

“I felt every ounce of happiness sucked from me.”

“I’m the worst.”

“Absolutely dreadful.”

The duo went back and forth and Izo pushed Thatch down the hall towards their rooms.  Like a switch, one by one the rest of the family all wandered off to their beds until Newgate and Marco were the only ones left.  They watched them go, bid them goodnight and then fell into a contemplative silence.  

“How long do you think this one will last?”

“I don’t know son.”

“They’re looking for someone in particular, depending on how much they want them or how well their hidden, it could be a while.”  Sabo said stepping off the stairs and walking back into the dining room.

“You know who?”  Marco asked and Sabo shook his head and shrugged his shoulder.

“Ace asleep already?”  Newgate asked instead.

“Yeah, like a light the moment he laid down.  He’ll be up in a few hours, nothing I can do about that.  Whether it’s the stress or a stress driven nightmare don’t be surprised when you hear him lurking in the kitchen at some god awful hour.”  Sabo explained as he adjusted his coat.

“Are you leaving already?”  Marco asked, it wasn’t uncommon to Sabo to pop in and out but he usually would spend at least some time, if not the whole night with Ace on bad days.

“Ace’s isn’t my only brother.”  Marco nodded understanding instantly.  “And Luffy has never been good at hide and seek.”  With that Sabo made his way towards their front door.  Whitebeard followed him, opening the door.

“Be careful son.”  Sabo looked up at the man looking slightly taken aback before he scoffed.

“Sorry Whitebeard, I have no interest in being adopted today.”  Newgate laughed as he patted Sabo’s back on his way by.

“Any brother of my son is a son of mine, you better get use to it fast boy.”  He continued to smile brightly, he could tell Sabo was fighting a smile as he waved him off.  Ace and Sabo were polar opposites and two peas in a pod at the same time.  Newgate watched him until he disappeared before closing and bolting the locks on the door.  

He turned to see Marco checking the lock on the window beside him.  “House is all secure.”  Marco stated, smiling up at him and was patted on the back.  He was ever the vigilant one.  “We might as well be heading off to bed as well, goodnight pops.”

terrnovella  asked:

Honestly, I don't think incest should be illegal. The government has no right getting involved in people's personal lives, but I still think it is completely wrong due to all the genetic abnormalities that can arise from it.

I find it just immoral…and…yeah wrong, whenever I think of a way to describe it I can’t think of any other word than “wrong”. People should NOT be thinking of their family members in that way..and I hate it when people throw the excuses of “well they aren’t real people” or “well they’re consenting adults they can do what they want” and one person even said “oh so you hate gay couples?” when regarding the Fontcest thing…which just made me want to give them a smack for more reasons than one =.=

I don’t care about people’s excuses for it, it’s still…wrong. And I’ll stand by that view ‘til the day I die. call me cynical or intolerant or whatever you want

Inhuman || Klaroline

Klaroline Infinity Day 6 - Other Supernatural

Klaus is almost ready to break his curse, but he refuses to do so without Katerina finally doing her part. She has managed to elude him so far with the help of various allies, but the latest distraction proves to be far more interesting to Klaus.

“Funny,” Klaus noted with a smirk. “Katerina usually prefers to employ male cannon fodder.”

The little blonde merely stood before him, unafraid. She didn’t even bother to reply. Her head canted to the side as she watched the Original draw closer to the door of his hotel room, where she had been waiting.

It was something of a game for Klaus in his hunt to break the curse restraining his wolf, to allow Katerina Petrova’s various pets enough of a fight to be fun for him. The werewolf from whom she had stolen the moonstone lacked the strategy of battle; the vampire brothers she bounced between were too busy competing for her favor to put up a decent showing. Even Elijah was easily a pawn to the wily doppelganger, though at least daggering him was an actual challenge.

This girl, however, smelled young. Klaus couldn’t sense any power, as he could on a vampire, wolf, or witch. Humans were often too stupid to realize the danger he posed, but they could still feel a frisson of unease in his sheer presence. She seemed almost serene.

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The Certificate of Mutation Authorization! For all your Trolls who are tired of being held up at every checkpoint and bar! Simply show this card to those attempting to detain you and show that YES! you ARE a citizen of the mighty Troll empire! and you HAVE been recognized as such!

Simply head towards the nearest registry TONIGHT and sign up for registration! our automated Drones are standing by to help you ease the burden of your genetic abnormalities!  Just show them how beneficial you can be to the Empire, and you too can rest easy as a recognized citizen of the empire! Glory to  her imperious condescension!!!

Automated Drones are programmed to cull any who cannot prove their worth to the empire. Mutations in blood colour need not apply.

Alrright! finally got it done woo!

was ALSO going to do a version that’s written in Alternian, buuut, the process of copy-pasting every individual letter quickly got tedious halfway through “Certificate of Mutation Authorization”.  and re-sizing the letters was getting me nowhere. heavy insperation was taken from the “Fantroll Information Chart” so thank you to whoever made that! (I may have borrowed some hexagons. sorry about that.)

Anyways reblog and enjoy! 

Retinoblastoma is a rare form of cancer that typically presents in young children, typically under 5 years old. Symptoms include redness and inflammation in the eye, an unusual white reflection in the eye in photographs with a camera flash, problems with vision and a squint. The cancer is caused by uncontrolled division of retinal cells, in about 40% this results from a genetic abnormality that tends to lead to bilateral retinoblastoma, while in the remaining 60% the underlying cause is not known. 

Treatment includes chemotherapy, brachytherapy (a form of radiotherapy), cryotherapy, laser therapy and surgical removal of the eye if the tumour is large. The survival rate for retinoblastoma is more than 95%.

This is where the “Russian adoptions” angle came from in Trump Jr.’s meeting.

I just finished reading through some testimony to the Senate Judiciary Committee from last week and I’m actually stunned that this happened last week and I haven’t seen anything widely shared about it.  To me, this is the most fascinating piece of the Russian Collusion puzzle, it’s still clearly ongoing with lives still in danger, and it would make a fantastic movie.  You can read Bill Browder’s testimony in full, but I'ma try to summarize and pull out the juiciest parts because some of this needs more emphasis than others and some parts need additional context.  

I’ll start with the Russian lawyer who sat down with Trump Jr., Manafort, and Kushner, Natalia Veselnitskaya.

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drabble; matron

also for @kateyes224 because Home is a great fucking episode.

drabble; pg; early msr ust; tw for graphic description of the death of a baby, mild discussion of incest; post-Home; Scully has some doubts.


“I think that’s the worst thing I’ve ever had to do,” Scully says randomly on the drive back to the airport. It’s said so nonchalantly he almost misses it; he’d been kind of ignoring everything else, technical stuff about genetic abnormalities he can’t follow. But hey. A confession from Scully. Totally worth the fear she is implanting in his soul with her lousy driving. 

“You mean driving past…” oops, one more. “Four stop signs?”

“Most people here don’t even have a car,” she hisses, but she slows down. He feels less like has to pee now. “I’m talking about the autopsy.” Well, now he feels like a dick.

“I can’t imagine,” he says, because he can’t. The fetus hadn’t a mouth or any hair or visible feet. With all the blood and the dirt it did not, in fact, resemble anything like a child except for it’s tiny, clenched fists with all of its tiny clenched fingers. He left when she pulled out her scalpel, just like he always does. So he hadn’t had to see evidence of a heart or a brain or any other vital organs you’d expect to see in a human. She faced the very crux of its humanity and was forced to view it as a child, a once living thing, and he was not. 

“That was her child, Mulder,” she says thickly, tightening her hands around the steering wheel. He straightens up in his seat and looks her over, concerned. “It was very lucky to not have lived another second. It was very lucky to not have met her.”


“Those were her children,” she continues, staring straight ahead at the road. “I cannot fathom what kind of mother could do that to her children.”

“I can’t fathom what kind of children could do that to their mother,” he winces, very inappropriately. He hurries before she can look over at him and make him feel guilty, “I think it’s all she’s ever known, Scully. Her mother probably did the same. And her mother’s mother. And her mother’s mother’s mother…”

“You just hope, Mulder. You just have this hope that it will come natural to you.” This is the voice that he can’t ever ignore, the voice she hits him with when she’s grown weary or close to giving up. It hurts him to hear it. “You hope you know right from wrong as soon as you find out you’re pregnant.”

“You’re worried,” he says softly, and nods when she bites her lip. “You’re worried that you won’t know.”

“I won’t ever, ever be like her,” she says vehemently. He chuckles darkly.

“I can vouch for that.”

“But this…” she doesn’t finish. He knows. Mrs. Peacock is undeniable proof that there’s no recipe for good parenting and even worse, how easy it is to convince yourself you’re a good parent, that you’ve made the right choices, that you’re incapable of making the wrong one.

He grips her knee and squeezes, wishing he could hold her hand or hug her close. But she needs to keep her eyes on the road. Maybe later. “Scully,” he says. “I don’t think that’s something you’ll ever have to worry about.”
How an abortion saved millions of lives
In 1962, Leonard Hayflick created a cell strain from an aborted fetus.

The woman was four months pregnant, but she didn’t want another child. In 1962, at a hospital in Sweden, she had a legal abortion.

The fetus — female, 20 centimetres long and wrapped in a sterile green cloth — was delivered to the Karolinska Institute in northwest Stockholm. There, the lungs were dissected, packed on ice and dispatched to the airport, where they were loaded onto a transatlantic flight. A few days later, Leonard Hayflick, an ambitious young microbiologist at the Wistar Institute for Anatomy and Biology in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, unpacked that box.

Working with a pair of surgical scalpels, Hayflick minced the lungs — each about the size of an adult fingertip — then placed them in a flask with a mix of enzymes that fragmented them into individual cells. These he transferred into several flat-sided glass bottles, to which he added a nutrient broth. He laid the bottles on their sides in a 37 °C incubation room. The cells began to divide.

So began WI-38, a strain of cells that has arguably helped to save more lives than any other created by researchers. Many of the experimental cell lines available at that time, such as the famous HeLa line, had been grown from cancers or were otherwise genetically abnormal. WI-38 cells became the first ‘normal’ human cells available in virtually unlimited quantities to scientists and to industry and, as a result, have become the most extensively described and studied normal human cells available to this day.

Vaccines made using WI-38 cells have immunized hundreds of millions of people against rubella, rabies, adenovirus, polio, measles, chickenpox and shingles. In the 1960s and 1970s, the cells helped epidemiologists to identify viral culprits in disease outbreaks. Their normality has made them valuable control cells for comparison with diseased ones. And at the Wistar Institute, as in labs and universities around the world, they remain a leading tool for probing the secrets of cellular ageing and cancer.

Individualism is a plague to any movement meant to liberate a whole class of people, and nowhere is this more obvious than the effect transgenderism is having on feminism.

You say you, as a trans man, feel personally excluded when the word female is used to fight against female oppression? Well guess what, in actuality that word is what will include you in any legislation passed to ensure our rights and freedoms - by default. Whether you want to believe it or not you are physiologically identical to the vast majority of other females on this planet, baring any genetic abnormalities, medical interventions, or surgical alterations. 

The fact that you do not ~feel~ included by use of the word female is neither here nor there when in practice, by its use in political language, you ARE being included.  

Now, in personal interactions any decent person would respect your wishes and refrain from using the word female to describe you, if you make it clear that it makes you uncomfortable. However, when talking about fighting for the liberation of whole class (of which you are a part); to fracture the language is to weaken the movement.

Listen. I think we’re all in agreement that Trump is a moron who doesn’t have any place in the white house and at this point it’s a matter of not if but when he’ll get impeached. But let’s not forget that even if Trump does get impeached we still have Pence to worry about and in some ways Pence is worse than Trump could ever hope to be.
•As governor of Indiana, Pence signed the most abortion-restrictive regulations in the nation, banning abortion even in cases where the fetus has a “genetic abnormality” such as Down syndrome and holding doctors legally liable if they had knowingly performed such procedures.
•In 2015, Pence helped pass one of the nation’s harshest “religious freedom” laws that would have protected businesses who wanted to refuse service to LGBT people if they cited religious objections
•In 2006, Pence proposed an immigration compromise that envisioned a guest worker program that required undocumented immigrants to “self-deport” before returning to America legally.
•Under Governor Pence, Indiana has diverted $53 million in the past two years from public school to funding vouchers for private schools, including religious schools, and to charter school programs.
•He is skeptical of climate change and wrote a letter to President Obama threatening to disobey the new regulations on coal mandated by the Clean Power Plan.
•He has an “A” rating from the NRA and is opposed to any restrictions on assault rifles.
•Records from a 1990 run for Congress show that Pence, then 31, had used political donations to pay the mortgage on his house, his personal credit card bill, groceries, golf tournament fees and car payments for his wife.

Pence is a career politican and he knows how the play the system. Although I think it’s great that the world has united against trump just remember the is something even more dangerous lurking behind him. Do not let him slide in after Trump and do whatever he wants. Fight him with as much force as we’re fighting Trump!!!

zooxanthele  asked:

I'm sure you have a long waiting list going, but could you do a breed health post on Cairn terriers? :3

They’re fairly uncommon here, and these dogs are very similar to the West Highland White Terrier, but I can give you a brief overview based on my experience.

Please note the disclaimer. These posts are about the breed from a veterinary viewpoint as seen in clinical practice, i.e. the problems we are faced with. It’s not the be-all and end-all of the breed and is not to make a judgement about whether the breed is right for you. If you are asking for an opinion about these animals in a veterinary setting, that is what you will get. It’s not going to be all sunshine and cupcakes, and is not intended as a personal insult against your favorite breed. This is general advice for what is common, often with a scientific consensus but sometimes based on personal experiences, and is not a guarantee of what your animal is going to encounter in their life.

Originally posted by fuckyeahcairnterriers

Atopy and allergies are extraordinarily common in the WHWT and also common in the Cairn Terrier. The Cairn is not as popular as the WHWT, and if it was I suspect we’d see them on more advertising for allergy products too.

Mitral valve dysplasia is a common heart condition of smaller dogs, and the Cairn is no exception. While it’s usually older dogs that are afflicted, it is reasonable common and this heart condition is managed, not cured.

Lion jaw, or craniomandibular osteopathy, is uncommon but when it does show up, it seems to be often in these dogs. This genetic condition causes abnormal bone growth to occur on the lower jaw, sometimes becoming severe enough to prevent proper opening and closing of the jaw. This usually occurs in younger dogs.

Portosystemic shunt is also relatively rare but shows up with increased frequency in this breed. In this condition there is an abnormal blood vessel that bypasses the liver, resulting in a whole host of symptoms including stunted growth, an underdeveloped liver and a range of neurological symptoms. Some pups are treatable with surgery, but it’s not a routine procedure.

Luxating patellas are also reasonably common, as they are in many small breeds. The severity of the condition will determine whether an affected dog would benefit from surgery.

How did I cease to become a person or cease to feel like I was a person because obviously I’ve been human all along, but how did I lose sight of that?

And I think the truth is I never actually believed I was human. Not fully. Not since as long as I can remember. How did that happen? I think because a little one having been abused and hurt there was so much of myself and my experiences that I kept secret from the people that loved me, from my parents, from my friends, from everyone except the people that hurt me and keeping the secret meant that all of the feelings, the sense of shame and guilt and the idea that it was my fault, that I was wrong and the things that people told me about myself were stuck inside, that this blackness that never got to see the light of day and because it never got to see the light of day it meant that I never got to find out that that wasn’t true. So I lived my life as if it was.

And the challenge with that I guess is that the people, me, my family, teachers, my friends could say as many nice things as they liked about me but because I believed at heart that I was a monster in a child suit pretending to be a human being, they never went through, they never kind of filtered through into me, they just stayed on the surface and then kind of whooshed away. So it felt like everything in my life that people understood about me was just window dressing, you know, it was something to hide the monster, it wasn’t real. And I went through much of my childhood believing that. And by the time I was a teenager believing I was an alien and that there was this alien that was inside of me that was making me bad, that was going to make me do something terrible.

It made perfect sense to me that I was fundamentally different to those people around me, that I was separate and I was just pretending to exist in their world. Going through your teenage years as an alien is just incredibly unusual. It was weird how I could live this double life of being able to have fun because I had fun in my teenage years as well. It wasn’t all unending badness. I was in a band, I had some mates, I wasn’t a cool kid, but I certainly got on okay. How could it be that I had the great stuff in my youth and yet I still felt like I wasn’t a human being? And I guess again it was that idea that all of this stuff was me living a lie. Living in society because where else did I live, I couldn’t find an alien planet to go and be on. So I was just living in the world but I wasn’t being myself. And I guess at university again when I was finally somewhere that I felt like I belonged but there was still this part of me that I felt like I could never show to those who said that they cared about me.

And then, imagine the day I met the doctor, the psychiatrist, by this point I was living in many worlds. I was living in a world where I thought I was being watched by cameras, there was the alien, a conspiracy, I was having visions, my emotions were all over the place and I was terrified. And I met this doctor and he was lovely. He was really reassuring. What he was saying to me was that I wasn’t bad, there wasn’t anything wrong with me, I was unwell, I was ill and that threw me a lifeline really, this idea that I had this illness that was causing all of these feelings and it just felt such an attractive concept because which would you choose? Bad, evil and dangerous to the world or you have this illness and that’s causing you to feel like you’re bad, evil and dangerous? Definitely go for the illness, even if I didn’t fully believe it.

But underneath that, underneath the idea of illness, I guess what the doctor was also saying to me very attractive, was basically saying that I was different. That I had this thing called schizophrenia,this psychotic illness, schizoaffective disorder, whatever label got attached to it at that point, that I was born different to the people around me, that my brain processed things differently, that I had different amounts of chemicals in my brain, there might be a structural abnormality, genetic vulnerability but, that I was ultimately different to my peers. That fitted with my worldview, it gave me a nice out, you know? He kind of said, yes, you are different, but it’s not your fault you are different. And that doesn’t mean you’re evil, you’re just sick. So, yes, that gave me an identity that was a lot better than the bad one, the sick one.

And over the course of the next few  years I guess what happened is really strange. I guess I dropped all of the pretense that I thought I was living, the pretense of having a future, about having friends, about having a life, interests, hobbies, potential, joy, sadness.

I dropped all of those human things and became the illness. It was if the doctor gave me a way of existing in the world without being fully human because people stopped expecting things of me. They didn’t expect me to do what other people did. I didn’t expect that of myself. And the colors and the vivacity of life, with the medication, the sedation, the kind of suppression of emotions start to fall away too and my friends fell away and things that made me me fell away until I was there the schizophrenic going to day centers, hospital appointments, spending time as an inpatient and that was it. And it’s kind of weird because at the same time, it felt right, it felt like this was my place in the world. I felt comfortable in an uncomfortable way.

And the doctor also gave me tablets, they gave me tablets that said, if you take these tablets you can function out there in the world, they will control this illness this sickness in you and allow you to function as if you were a human being. And so not only did he validate the fact that I felt like I wasn’t human and I was different, he gave me a pathway to exist alongside people without having to pretend that I was. And it was beautiful and also pretty fundamentally flawed because where do you go with that? The medication effective it kind of helped me to exist and that’s what I did for awhile. I existed.

So how did I go from existing as a walking illness to being a person as I really feel like I am now? What changed?

I think initially it was other people really. I was so fortunate that

I found other people that saw more than the sickness that I felt that I was. That saw potential and hope and a future and a history. They saw sense in what I was saying when I saw nothing. And these people some of them part of the voluntary sector a network for change, some of them were my friends, people in the hearing voices group the peer support group I went to eventually my family and people kind of connected with me that didn’t fully swallow the idea that I had no future. These people helped me start to ask questions because I’d stopped asking questions. I just accepted, but they started to ask me about how I felt, how I’d reached this place , they started to ask me questions about my voices, they started to ask me questions about my history and I had no real answers to these questions except for it is like this because it is, because I’m ill, because of my genetics, because of  the schizophrenia. Eventually those kind of stock answers became unsatisfying. They were obviously surface answers.

And other people’s interest in the idea that there’s something underneath it helped me to become interested too. I got exposed to other people’s journeys and in hearing about their journeys I recognized parts of myself but I saw potential for a future, not a giant potential, a raging fire or anything, just a tiny little ember of potential that I was frightened of but that over time started to get bigger and started to really provide me with impetus to search for my own answers. And I guess part of this also was getting a life, one of problems when you get stuck within the mental health system and seen as severely and enduringly mentally ill, is that life stops.

And how do you ever try and make sense of things and move forward if you are stuck in a hole and you can’t see your way out of it. If you’re comfortably stuck in a hole because it’s all you ever thought you could expect. It just doesn’t happen. And being part of hearing voices group and network for change and some other kinds of peer support stuff, it gave me a social network a community that I belong to, it helped me meet some amazing people that I thought were, oh, I was just inspired by the courageousness of everyday living with this stuff. I started to go out and do music, karaoke getting involved in artwork, volunteering and just a whole load of stuff that meant that all the things that I’d let go of when I’d become a patient, I started to grow new things around myself and become connected to things so that I was no longer just this ball of blackness, there was just more there.

And over time it’s like it started to filter through all the color all the kind of vivacity the interest all the community and it started to be that over the years I felt less evil, I felt less different from others. I found people that I was close to. And I started to find myself again as a human and to see myself as a human being worthy of being in the world like everybody else cause I already thought that other people were worth being in the world it was just myself that I thought was different. I started to feel less different. I got into work, I got a job, I fell in love all of these things and eventually I was living alongside other people not believing that I should be locked up into a box.

And then I stopped the meds. Why did I stop the meds? I guess because I’d believed I needed the medication because it was my pathway to being in the world as an ill sick dangerous person, it was the thing that allowed me to have a life. I always felt it would need that but then as I started to feel I belonged in the world and had strategies to deal with the distress that came from being in the world because actually being around things is difficult, it brings up a lot of  difficult voices, intense beliefs and challenges and so I had to find ways of coping with those and as I started to find ways of coping with that I thought maybe I don’t need meds as much over the course of a few years, I withdrew and then it hit. It’s probably not a great meds story because  a month later it all came flooding back, the pain, the suffering the voices the intense beliefs that people were stealing my thoughts. It was absolute chaos. And how is this a good part of the story? I guess what it really did was get me unstuck further because it revealed that inside me although I’d felt that I was fully a person

What I hadn’t noticed was that underneath all that medication and underneath the insides of me was a core sense of being bad, evil,the sense of being other and different and  fundamentally broken and wrong. It was still there and coming off meds almost unleashed it so it started to take over the whole of me and whilst that was frightening and overwhelming it was also amazing because it meant that I actually saw it for the first time I actually saw it and I knew what was going on I knew the reason that I felt that way.

I got myself into therapy and did a lot of work on feeling safe in my own skin, still doing that work to this day but in doing that what’s kind of happened is that I’m now building that kind of color, building that lightness from the inside rather than just letting the world filter through.

It’s like I’m growing it and what I’m realizing is that this core of badness that I’ve always held within me isn’t a core of badness at all. It’s a shadow. A reflection of the things that people have said to me in the past that have led me to feel this way. It’s not me. It’s a reflection of them.

And what’s inside this is just a child. No child is ever bad. I believe that very very solidly.

And I guess living in this world I find really difficult, having feelings and emotions and having witnessed so many difficult things is difficult. I feel terror, I feel intense anxiety at times, and fear I feel pain and suffering in the world and also in myself, but also I feel joy and connection and belongness and inspiration and hope and all this awesome stuff as well. I feel part of something big, I feel part of the hearing voices movement which is awesome.

I guess where I’m at now is I’m not trying to push away the darkness, and the pain but rather welcome it because without that I would not be able to experience the joy. Without the darkness there wouldn’t be the colors of the light, it’s super cheesy but it’s true. And I would rather live in this world without the filter of medication and acknowledging what it is to be a person this whole mix of things. I’d rather live this life than go back to being the schizophrenic in a ball in a darkened room separate from the world.

(Thanks for video, Caroline White and Jeannie Bass.)

[transcript mine]


Rai Waddingham, How did you Become a Person Again?

“This core of badness that I’ve always held within me isn’t a core of badness at all. It’s a shadow. A reflection of the things that people have said to me in the past that have led me to feel this way. It’s not me. It’s a reflection of them. And what’s inside this is just a child. No child is ever bad.”

anonymous asked:

Did a quick search on incest among the royals. Queen Victoria arranged marriages within the family. There are examples of it in ancient Egypt, Spain, and Hawaii just to name a few and there were genetic abnormalities that happened in these families that had been doing this for generations. So this wasn't an uncommon occurrence until the correlation between inbreeding and birth defects was found. Now this being a fictional world, who knows what the long term effects would be.

Exactly. I took AP European History last year and there was all kinds of incest among the royals. 

If you don’t like it, then don’t watch the show. It’s that simple.