medical cure

You know you live with too many nurses when you’re trying to find a pair of scissors and this happens. Surgical scissors for days.

And don’t even get me started on this. 

Or this…

Need a cold/hot pack? No problem. 

Got mauled by a bear? No worries. 

Who doesn’t love tongue depressors? 

Tape, anyone? 

Now you guys know what I have to deal with. This is hoarding taken to a new extreme. 


Maybe before we start petitioning for Stefán to do this or that, we should let him fully heal from the illness he still very much has.

Concept: Vulcan Buzzfeed

Featuring such classics as:

  • 15 Reasons Why Surak Was Actually Kind Of A Dick
  • 23 Ways to Spice Up Next Pon Farr
  • QUIZ: Is Your Bondmate Your T’hy’la? Find out now!
  • 9 Essential Things We Wish We Had Been Told Before Completing Kolinahr
  • Tal-Shaya: You’re Doing It Wrong [link opens to a gif of Spock performing the “Vulcan death grip”]
  • IN THE NEWS: 12 Groundbreaking New Medical Advances Toward Curing Bendii Syndrome 
  • Replicator Meat: Yay or Nay?
  • Don’t Meditate Longer, Meditate Smarter: 17 Ways To Improve Meditation Efficiency
  • QUIZ: What Plomeek-Based Dish Are You?
  • 25 Ways To Boost Your Application To The Vulcan Science Academy
  • IN THE NEWS: 8 Vulcan Politicians Who Want To Be Reunified With Romulans (And Why)
Facts About Autism

Did you know …

  • Autism now affects 1 in 68 children and 1 in 42 boys
  • Autism prevalence figures are growing
  • Autism is one of the fastest-growing developmental disorders in the U.S.
  • Autism costs a family $60,000 a year on average
  • Boys are nearly five times more likely than girls to have autism
  • There is no medical detection or cure for autism

I posted this for my younger brother who is autistic. I don’t care about if people don’t like that I posted this. I didn’t mean to offend anyone. Please, stop with the hate comments. I don’t care of my brother is autistic, I still love him, which is why I posted this. And thank you to the very few people who understand.

i just?? feel good today, like really good. like i cant rly describe it other than feeling Free

like you know how many ppl are afraid of being on meds bc they dont know Who Theyll Be when they work?? or like when youve been abused so long you dont know who you would have become if you hadnt been abused?

i feel like that person now. i feel whole and at peace and full of love in ways i never thought were possible

emperorlucien  asked:

What about the companions and their jobs/occupations if they were born Pre-War?

Cait would be an underworld boxer or bouncer. As woman Pre-War, she wouldn’t be able to do anything legitimate, and especially as a poor woman. Coupled with her bad childhood, she’d end up in some shady places. She’d be the reigning champion at some seedy bar that does bare-knuckle boxing in the back room and host dogfights on weekends. Or she’d be muscle for a brothel in Boston’s red-light district, keeping the sex workers’ patrons from getting too rowdy.

Codsworth was built Pre-War, and would do the same functions he does now. Cleaning, cooking, looking after children. With local technicians to keep his body and software up to date, he’d be the perfect model housekeeper.

Curie was also created by Pre-War scientists, and if the bombs hadn’t dropped, I’m sure she’d happily carry out her function without question. Running medical experiments, finding cures… Though, with time, she may yearn to be human as her artificial intelligence grows to achieve sentience. Or, at least, something close to it. She might create her own secret project, where she tries to engineer a human body for her own use.

Danse would, of course, be a soldier. A good, all-American man, fond of baseball and apple pies. A bit stoic and dull, but top of his class. He’s a Marine, and proud of it. He’d have a big black pick-up truck and listen to bluegrass music as he drives around his small-town military base. He’d have half the town’s young women pining after him, but he’s a little too socially awkward and oblivious to notice, and he’s too devoted to his work to try for a love life.

Deacon would be a lot of things. In his youth he was a delinquent, but after his old gang murdered his wife, he’d devote his life to charity. He’d write books, act in plays, campaign for social change, give all his money to various non-profits, learn how to be a clown, a singer, a tap-dancer… He’s a drifter. A minstrel. He’d just want to have a good time, be a good person, and make others happy, if only because he can’t figure out how to sit down and be happy himself.

Dogmeat would be a police dog for a while, being a German Shepherd, but after being injured in one of his legs, he’d retire and be retrained as a therapy dog, and go around to various hospitals and cheer up sick people and children.

Hancock is a punk. An anarchist. He’d spend the first 25 years of his life on various drugs and going to (then dropping out) of college, until he finally starts his own band and devotes his time to restoring his dilapidated hometown, fighting for needle exchange programs and supporting the rights of the disabled and mentally ill, building a homeless shelter in his old neighborhood and using his fame and fortune to become a public icon.

Nick Valentine was - and is - a good detective, until the day that a case goes wrong and he ends up losing his fiancee and his legs. Unable to go out and investigate like he used to, he became depressed, thinking that his new disability made him less of a man, of a cop. But after getting prosthetics or a wheelchair, he becomes an inspiration to people with physical disabilities as he continues trying to do his job, in an era where people who aren’t “perfect” aren’t supported. This keeps him going.

MacCready was an orphan who grew up on the streets in D.C., starting out as an odd-job doer and eventually graduating to the title of “thug” as he aged. He walked with a few different gangs, becoming known as a “fixer.” You want the snot knocked out of someone, or want someone scared out of their wits? Call MacCready. Kid knew his way around a gun and a knife. Then he knocked up his girl, and after watching her die in childbirth, he had to go straight and work as security to take care of his kid.

Piper is, of course, a reporter. She moved to Boston with stars in her eyes and a powerful ambition. What with all the civil unrest going on Pre-War, she had her hands full, covering everything from protests to gang killings, all while looking after her adolescent sister. She gets some crap for being a woman in the business, and a woman who doesn’t apologize at that, but she doesn’t mind. Or, well, she does, but she doesn’t let it get to her. The truth matters more than popular opinion.

Preston would be a kid who grew up in the country, far away from most of the chaos happening in the cities. But after his family lost their land and they were forced to move into the big city to live with family, he became a social activist. He’s the one organizing many of the protests, many of the marches, the one who stands outside city hall with a megaphone, shouting about the will of the people and the good of the world. He even gets arrested a time or two, but persists, because it isn’t about him. It’s about giving people hope.

Strong wouldn’t exist, I’m afraid. I think the closest we’d get to a Pre-War Strong is a convict taken from prison and used in early FEV trials. But even then, he probably wouldn’t survive, let alone function in society.

X6-88, like Strong, probably wouldn’t be created Pre-War. Though I can imagine some CIT scientist creating his first AI, his first humanoid robot, and giving it a standard number-letter name as he records its thoughts and actions. That might be the Pre-War version of X6-88.

Curing vs Caring

“I want you to know, you made all the difference.  Your visits were the best part of my day.”

I smiled and wished her good luck in the future.  It was bittersweet to watch Jenni leave.  She had, after all, been in the hospital for 3 weeks at that point.  Like so many people I encounter, she had a run of bad luck.  While on vacation she woke up with left sided back pain.  She presented to a small community emergency department and was found to have a perinephric abscess, at which point she was transferred to my hospital. 

Even before I came on service, she and her husband were known for being “difficult.”  This is a word I despise in healthcare, because it is often inappropriately used.  Truly there are patients who are difficult for one reason or another, but these are actually quite rare.  More often I find that “difficult” patients are really misunderstood patients.  

From the first moment I met them I was assaulted with questions and concerns, which became the trend for our interactions.  She was, by nature, a high anxiety person and wanted constant updates on what we were doing.  Though this seemed frustrating to my colleagues, I was unfazed.  After the first couple days, I planned my rounding so that I could give her extra time.  I began to sit with her as we chatted.  Eventually I could see her anxiety melting when I was around.

Her hospital course was somewhat complicated.  She developed a sympathetic effusion from her abscess and required a chest tube.  The abscess, which we tried to drain percutaneously, eventually required surgery.  When it became apparent she might lose her kidney she requested to talk with me.

I held her hand as we talked through her fears.  I walked her through her options.  She cried, worried about the outcome.  It took lots of discussion but she agreed to the procedure and indeed lost her kidney in the process.

The woman who was “a difficult patient” was actually very pleasant.  In our time together we hypothesized over Rey’s future in Star Wars (is she a Skywalker??).  We jabbed each other about our favorite sports teams.  And she laughed as I joked about her leaning too much to the right after losing her left kidney.  

My role in her cure was relatively minor.  I was the 4th year med student, a sub-intern.  I did not prescribe a drug.  I did not perform a surgery.  I was barely part of her thorocentesis.  But my role in her care was substantial, and that made all the difference to her.  

I see curing and caring as two parts of a venn diagram - the best healthcare happens in the middle.  For Jenni, my role was caring, and that seemed to help. Honestly, between the two of us I think I got the most benefit from our interactions.  I was able to know a beautiful person and to learn from her pathology.  But more importantly I was able to better understand the complexities that patients bring with them.  

It is easy to feel insignificant as a med student, a glorified shadow with a stethoscope.  Jenni allowed me the opportunity to contribute to her care and allowed me to be significant.  As she bid me farewell I wanted to say she was the best part of my day too, because she truly was.  For all you med students out there struggling to understand your role, never forget about the caring.  You don’t need your medical license for that, and it really can change your entire clinical experience.