rib fractures

arobotunicorn  asked:

Hey, Scripty! I'm the one writing that fight with broken bones for everyone, and I need a follow-up. This is a dystopian setting, where I'm assuming all medicine is pretty much the same as nowadays, except that, for universe-related reasons, opiates are straight-up forbidden. How would you treat the patient with broken ribs, then? Would they be under anesthetics for a few days? (And how many?) Some NSAIDs "stronger" than ibuprofen, perhaps? (I'm thinking celecoxib/diclofenac, what do you think?)

Hey there! Welcome back. For  anyone who doesn’t have an encyclopedic knowledge of my archives (including me!), this ask is referring back to: http://scriptmedic.tumblr.com/post/153842614105/hi-two-of-my-characters-will-have-a-fight-one-of

Now then (or other-than-now-then, since AU). Broken ribs will do just fine with NSAIDs. (Most thincgs will; I have even heard of one ER deciding to abandon opiates entirely for a short term as part of a study.) Ibuprofen and acetaminophen are both very popular, and are sometimes prescribed to be alternated every couple hours for serious pain, because they’re metabolized differently (one renal, one hepatic).

Another alternative is Toradol / ketorolac, which might be prescribed for the first few days (no more than 5), and backed up with acetaprofen after that. Most rib fractures can be managed just fine with this kind of combo.

Hope this was helpful!

xoxo, Aunt Scripty


Unexpected Visitor

Prompt: Can I request a Hanzo/reader where the reader gets injured on a mission and has a visitor, maybe genji or McCree and they mention that Hanzo is super worried about them and the reader had thought that Hanzo hated them because of how he acted around them and then maybe the visitor tells him and he apologizes for being so cold and then just fluff?

@fuzzynumz helped again!

“A broken leg, several fractured ribs, and a gunshot wound in your lower abdomen,” Dr. Zeigler reads off a clipboard, issuing her diagnosis.”Normally, I’d scold you for being so careless, but, honestly, you were lucky to make it out alive.”

What with all the drugs in your system, all you can manage is an apologetic smile before you’re out like a light.


The next time you awaken, you’re met with furious clicking noises, accompanied by soft 8-bit music. Your sore muscles scream as you tilt your head over to look, and you wince slightly, drawing the attention of your apparent visitor. Genji, glancing up and seeing your state of consciousness, closes the DS he had been previously occupied by and scoots his chair closer. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you deadpan. “How’s everyone?”

“They are okay, you took the brunt of the attack.”

You hum in acknowledgement, returning your gaze to the ceiling. A few moments pass in silence, as you think over the previous mission’s events. Your thoughts are interrupted as your visitor clears his throat. “Hanzo has been worried sick,” he states simply.

You scoff at that, turning your head back to regard him. “I sincerely doubt that.”

Obviously a bit confused, the cyborg tilts his head at your dismissive response. “Why wouldn’t he be? You are his friend.”

“Friend? He hates my guts, Genji. He can’t stand me.”

He’s obviously taken aback by this response. “Why would you think that?”

“He glares at me whenever I try to talk to him.”

“He’s just,” he stops, considering “…prickly.” 

You repress your snickering at that understatement. “I’m sure. If that’s not it, then why does he avoid me like the freaking plague?”

“He’s shy?” It comes out as more of a question.

You can’t help but laugh outright at that comment. “Genji, even if that were true, he still gets unreasonably pissed off whenever I fuck up on a mission. The last thing I heard before I wound up here was him calling me an idiot for getting shot, like it was my fault!” You know you’re pouting like a petulant child at this point, yet you find it hard to care. “He won’t even tell me why he hates me so much.”

“…I will talk to him.” 

You hum disinterestedly.

The machine next to you beeps, signalling your next dosage of medication, and you prepare yourself for your new bout of drowsiness. As if sensing your slipping awareness,  Genji stands, giving your shoulder a brief squeeze before nodding at you and turning to leave. You don’t register much else as you begin to slip away.


You once more regain consciousness, blinking up at the bright light and sterile white walls. You remain still, taking stock of your body. The painkillers haven’t faded yet, so your gunshot wound is giving you no trouble. The only pain is a dull ache in your leg. The next thing you notice is the presence of a warm hand in yours. A bit confused, you lift your head to look, and are met with the sight of a figure slouched by your bedside, one hand entwined with yours, the other propping up its head. In your drug-induced haze, you fail to realize for the first few moments just who the figure is, but when you do, you blink in surprise. 

“Hanzo?” you ask, accompanying your query with a squeeze of his hand. 

His head shoots up, and he stares at you with wide eyes for a brief moment. He glances down at your still-clasped hands, wrenching his own out of your grasp. A faint pink flush makes its way up his face. A moment of uncomfortable silence passes, the both of you regarding one another. 

He is the first to look away, glancing down at his lap and clearing his throat. “Hello, Y/N, I am glad to see you are well.”

“Mm-hm.” You continue to stare at him. He seems slightly unnerved by your steady gaze, made clear by his fidgeting hands and lack of eye contact. You sigh, deciding to take the direct approach. “Look, Hanzo, why are you here?” 

His face snaps up once again, seemingly alarmed by your annoyed tone.

“I know you don’t like me, you don’t have to pretend,” you continue, regarding him with the same unwavering gaze.

“I-  No- I-” he pauses for a brief moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “Earlier today, Genji came to see me, he told me what you said.” He pauses to scrub a hand down his face before pushing on. “I must apologise for my behavior, I did not intend to make you feel… disliked.” He pauses taking a deep breath, before meeting your eyes once again. “I’m very sorry, I actually consider you a very close friend.” He hesitates once more, the blush from earlier making a reappearance, as he once again starts to fidget in his seat. He reaches down on the floor rooting through an unseen bag for something, before producing a stuffed brown teddy bear. 

You’re acutely aware of the surprise that must be showing on your face as he offers you the bear, blush flaring up full force on his face as he avoids eye contact. You gently reach for the bear, wrapping your arms around it and hugging it to your chest. He still won’t look at you. “Thank you, Hanzo,” you mumble, smiling despite yourself. Looking up, he smiles slightly and nods in response, though his cheeks are still red. Letting go with one hand, you reach out, grasping his hand once again. He looks down at your clasped hands, still smiling slightly. 

The machine next to you beeps once more. You sigh, clutching the teddy closer, before snuggling deeper into the sheets. Hanzo looks up to meet your already drooping eyes, giving your hand a squeeze. “Sleep well, I will be here when you wake.” The last thing you see before drifting off is a smiling face gazing down lovingly at you.


First lift since August! I had told myself I would take ALL of September off from lifting in order to give myself a mental and physical break, and to start doing yoga. I decided this when I got on my new antidepressant, anti anxiety, and ADD medication back in August to allow my body to rest and adjust well to the changes I was putting it through.
It was really tough for me to do so, but I knew I needed it. I had planned to get back in the gym, but ended up fracturing a rib and couldn’t do much of anything these past few months. And I truly did it, and havent stepped into the gym since.
Sure, 4 months off wasn’t what I intended, but I didn’t let it get to me, and I allowed myself to relax. If I didn’t take this REAL break, my body may have been overwhelmed by my new medication and intense exercise routine, my ribs may have not recovered properly, and I would have probably worn myself thin.
Sometimes taking an actual, real break will make you stronger in the long run depending on where you are right now with your mental and physical health.


Her Red, Red Lipstick (The Imprint It Leaves On His Cheek) by 13letters

When after talking in the backseat of his car, trading war stories and battle scars and past heartaches that burned like flames to old photos and ached like fractured ribs, nails in a coffin – he became hopeful then, traded her optimism and goodness from her for fear.

It’s a strange first revelation, though, when you’ve got something to lose for the first time, when there’s a clear before and after that’s her handprints all over his heart. How she forgives him without thinking. How they danced slowly to Kiss From a Rose in the kitchen and laughed themselves silly, tripped a little too hard in love and found each other on the kitchen floor.

Being just friends is the biggest lie they’ll tell on this road to learning each other and taking life as the joke it is.

The Ackermans=The 9th Titan?

Regarding the Ackerhealing power, how can Mikasa recover from this

to this


And don’t forget about the injuries of her arms. And how can she recovered from rib fractures within 1 week. Okay *sighed* it is the 1000th times I repeated it.

Armin said Mikasa is not a “WILD ANIMAL”.

Annie said Mikasa is a “BEAST”.

And the others said the Ackermans are “MONSTERS”.

I used to think the Ackermans have power similar to the Beast Titan, yet when I look at these:

I spotted the rock-throwing titan (Zeke the Beast Titan) and the Cargo Titan, but wait…let me look closer…

There’s a Horse Titan? What!?

And in another drawing, there’s a titan blocked by the dialog bubble that we can only see one of its feet. 

What if it looks like a wild animal—and its power had went to the descendants of the Ackermans?

Things You Didn’t Say At All.

Rick’s hands are shaky. His hair is dripping with sweat. He wipes at his face, clearing the blood and dirt from his eyes. He stares at the wall ahead of him, his eyes wide and crazy. He hums a little as he breathes in and out, feeling a slight vibration in his chest. Another fractured rib, he supposes. But he refuses to leave her side. Maggie is still pacing outside the door, her voice raising as she tries and fails to keep Carl in line.


“Carl, calm down!”


“You don’t fucking get it Maggie!” Carl screams, tears streaming down his delicate face.


“Don’t talk to me like that Carl, I swear to God!”


“That’s two!” He raises his fingers to emphasize his point as Enid lowers her head, her face breaking as the emotion comes, “That’s two fucking mothers that I’ve lost!” He sobs.


“Shut up!” Maggie screams, desperation dripping through her words, “Just shup up! She’ll be fine! Do you hear me? She’ll make it! She’s, she’s strong. She’ll make it.”


Rick drops his head as their words float through the thin walls. He blinks toward her, humming again as pain rips through his body. She’s here because of him. A bargaining chip, Negan announced as he dragged her away from Alexandria. Rick did everything he could, bowed down deeper and harder than before, to try and keep her safe. But to no avail. Negan felt as though Rick still didn’t get it.


“Fucking hell Rick! I didn’t want to have to do this, I really didn’t.” Negan boomed, smiling all the while, “But, you’ve left me no choice. The quickest way to a man’s heart, is through his pussy.”


Now he’s covered in her blood as she lays motionless on the bed in front of him. There’s a soft beep from some sort of machine that the doctor has her hooked up to, but that’s about it. He always thought they had time, you know? Yeah, sure, they were living in the middle of an apocalypse but finding her was nothing short of a miracle. She gave him hope. So, his mind began to wander, creating days and months and years of them together in his psyche. Always just thinking she’d be there.


He never told her he loves her. Although he is consumed with emotion and feelings for her. He never told her how she makes him feel. How happy she’s made him in such a short time; the happiest he’s been in only God knows how long. He never told her that he needs her like the sun, like water, like food. He never told her he loved her because he thought he had time.


And now he may never have the chance. So, he sits quietly, internally kicking himself as he runs his lips over the backs of her fingers, willing her to wake up. He can’t even speak up now, not even in this moment, not even as she fights for her life. He can’t even tell her all he wants to say. It took Lori’s death to finally get him to admit how he truly felt. How he loved her. How he wanted to put it back together. Here he is again. Losing yet another member of his family and he can’t even spit it out.


He hangs his head low, lower than ever before, letting the tears drip onto the bed below him. He shakes his head slowly, still rubbing his lips along the backs of her warm fingers. He wants to say it, to tell her everything, but he can only find three words.


“Please don’t die.”                                                                                        

bellamy blake modern day au; INDESCRIBABLY TRUE

PROMPT; modern day au where the reader (female) gets into a car accident, an when she’s discharged from the hospital, Bellamy stay at her house to care for her and it leads to a little bit more than just that. (requested by anonymous)

PAIRING; bellamy blake x reader

WARNINGS; car accident, hospitals, several injuries, swearing, implied smut towards the end then fluff after that.

You swore on your life that you didn’t see that damned car coming when you were driving, and that it had just appeared. You were still blamed for the accident but at the time, you didn’t care. Your head when through the windshield upon impact, because the airbag didn’t deploy.

You ended up being in a medically induced coma for three days as you healed, leaving you with a severe concussion, a broken wrist and three fracture ribs, not to mention the cuts and scrapes and bruises that littered the rest of your body.

After nearly two months of bedrest in the hospital (you hadn’t several surgeries due to your ribs poking your lungs and a bit of internal bleeding), they finally discharged you, but with strict instructions to not do anything because it could worsen your already shitty state. 

And that was when good old Bellamy Blake grinned an offered to take care of you for as long as you needed. You told him it was unnecessary, that you could call up your mother or father, maybe a sibling, but he insisted and you reluctantly gave him a spare key to your apartment. 

It’s not that’s you didn’t trust him, it was just going to be awkward. You and his sister, Octavia, had been the best of friends for years, and you had developed a crush on her charming elder brother, much to her dismay. 

So now here you were, giving him a key to your home and allowing him to help you with literally everything and anything.

“Y/N,” his voice rang from the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner?”

You and him had been on the couch all day binge watching Netflix and eating chips, candy… you name it, before he decided to actually make you something. 

“We can just order pizza,” you said, sitting up a bit. “I have money in the top drawer of my nightstand.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes as he walked towards you, a glass of water and pills in his hands. “I’m not taking your money. I can pay,” he said, handing you the pills then the water. 

You rolled your eyes back at him. “Just take my money, Bell. Think of it as payment for helping me so much.” You quickly downed the bitter pills with a grimace.

“I don’t want your money, Y/N/N,” he mumbled, taking the glass from you and setting it on the coffee table before he sat next to you on the couch. “You keep trying to pay me, or help pay. You don’t have to do any of that. I like helping you, contrary to popular belief.”

You smiled at him. “I’ll pay you. One way or another.” you said, stretching a bit and closing your eyes. When you opened them again, Bellamy was still looking at you. “Bell? You good?”

His lips were suddenly on yours, your eyes almost widening before your hands found their way to his neck, pulling on the small hairs there as he pushed you gently back, weary of your injuries.

He shifted himself so his hips were between your legs, spreading them lightly with his knee. His lips left yours and trailed down your neck, leaving the lightest of marks that could blend in with some of your bruises. 

“Bellamy…” you whispered, your cheeks a shade of red darker than they should be. His hands rested on your waist, eyes skimming your face in fear he had done something wrong, or maybe that he was forcing this on you.

You just smiled lightly at him, your hands resting on his cheeks as he came closer and kissed you again, leaving you on a world of pure bliss. 

Looking back on it now, you don’t remember much of that occasion, just the fact that you two were the only ones alive at the moment, that the other was the only thing that mattered. It was a night of passion, a night of intimacy that went slowly but on a good way. 

It was gentle, he was gentle, for fear he would hurt you in any possible way. He drank it all in, as did you, and that was all the both of you could remember. 

But now you lay in your unmade bed with your head on his chest, his arm around you as your legs tangled with his and the sheets. The pain of your recent accident was forgotten, leaving you purely happy, happier than you had been in a while.

And Bellamy couldn’t help but agree. It was indescribably true.  

randomstoryblog  asked:

Hi, Aunt Scripty! What are the consequences of doing a CPR on someone who doesn't need it? Is it dangerous? And do you know if someone who did it can be punished for it? (Ofc it's a writing question!) aaand I love your blog!

Hey there! I love your question!!

YES, CPR IS DANGEROUS, ESPECIALLY BY UNTRAINED PERSONNEL. However, that untrained person is likely protected by “Good Samaritan” laws against legal action. Consult @scriptlawyer or, better yet, do a search for “Good Samaritan Laws” + “Your State / City / Country”. Essentially, people are protected from liability when trying to Do Good Deeds.  

Here’s a short list of some of the potential side effects of CPR, especially if performed improperly:

Rib fractures

Liver lacerations

Trauma to the bronchi or airways

Pneumothorax (collapsed lung)

Rib fractures are extremely common – in fact, they’re an indicator that CPR is being performed correctly. The others are rare, but potentially lethal.

So yes, CPR is dangerous.

The only thing more dangerous to giving someone CPR is not giving someone CPR when they need it.

Look, if your character’s only options are “I break some ribs but they might live” or “Fuck it, they’re probably not dead-dead, right?”, and your character guesses wrong about whether the person is alive, your character has allowed someone to die who may be viable.

So yes, medfolk characters might judge someone hard who did CPR on a living person, but they’ll judge someone way more harshly for walking by a viable corpse and doing nothing to make it better.

xoxo, Aunt Scripty


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Motorcycle Crash Survivor Records “Final Words”

On Octobre 15 Kevin Diepenbrock and Philip Polito, two riding companions and co-workers, tumbled more than 100 feet down a rocky embankment after their motorcycles collided on a notorious stretch of Highway 129 called The Dragon. Polito was killed in the crash, and the 41-year-old Diepenbrock was flung out of sight from passengers.
Laying motionless in a ditch just off the highway with two punctured lungs, a dozen broken ribs, and several spinal fractures, he took out his phone to make one, final statement. Recording his last words, Diepenbrock sent his love to his wife, parents, and his especially large pack of dogs.
Stopping to take a sip of water, a passing motorist found him nearly 30 hours later. 


PROMPT: “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

Requested?: Yes.

Triggers; mention of abuse.

“Female, potential victim of abuse. Broken ribs and fractured wrist.” Halstead was pulled out of his daze as his eyes averted to the female laying on the stretcher.“No, no. I can’t be here. Take me back. Please.” Halstead heard the female.

“Calm down, sweetheart. What’s your name?” April asked her, head tilted to the side.“Y/N. Look. Just make them take me back. Please. I’m fine. It doesn’t even hur-  ah.” She whined out, hand gripping onto her side.“Yeah, totally looks like it doesnt hurt.” Will commented. Earning a glare from Y/N, he smiled sadly.

Moving her from the stretcher to the bed, the paramedics left.“Wanna tell me what happened, Y/N?” Halstead asked, an eyebrow quirked. Snorting, she looked up at him.“I just fell down the steps.” Shaking his head, he spoke,“You sure about that?” He sat down on the chair, taking a look at her ribs.“Positive. I’m not in an abusive relationship. Shit, i’m just clumsy.”

Taking her wrist in his hand, he looked up at her.“You get a handprint on your wrist from falling down the stairs?” Gritting her teeth, she stayed silent.“Look, it’s none of my business-” “Damn right it isn’t. Just stay out of it.” She told him, tears burning in her eyes.“Look, my brother’s a detective. The best. He can help you” “I don’t need any help. God. Don’t you people listen?” Halstead stood up with a sigh.“Some one will be in her to wrap you up. No serious injuries.”

With that, Halstead left. That was the last time he expected to see her, but oh boy was he wrong.

“Female, twenties, broken nose, broken jaw, suspected concussion, unconscious upon arrival.” April looked at her before looking at Halstead.“I guess she fell down the stairs again?” Halstead bit down on his lip before moving her back to the bed.

After a few hours of multiple x-rays and surgery, Y/N finally fluttered her eyes open, both of the Halstead’s standing over her. Her swelling in her face had finally subsided, but the bruises were nasty. “Y/N. This is my brother, Detective Halstead. You NEED to tell us what’s going on, Y/N. We can help.” Jay looked at her with sad eyes.

After a long explanation of her boyfriend using her as quite the punching bag, Halstead left, ready to take the asswad down.

“You okay?” He asked her as she sobbed her little heart out.“Hey, hey. Calm down. He can’t hurt you anymore.” With that, her wrapped her into a tight hug.


So I was looking for this story to add to my ‘Jared injuries’ series (it’s number 12/?); but actually it seems like Jared came off relatively well out of this one with just the fractured rib… (video)

Bonus (x):

Double bonus (x):

Brave Little Sister

Summary-You get tortured by a demon and your brothers save you

Word count-669

Warnings-Mentions of torture not too graphic, mentions of blood, mild swearing

A/N-Requests are open!

“Bite me.” You snarled at the demon circling you. A simple salt and burn case turned into you and your brothers getting attacked by demons. You pushed your brothers away but unfortunately you weren’t as lucky. So now here you sat blood dripping from your mouth, countless cuts on your arms and legs and possibly fractured ribs. Lovely.

“Now now all I wanna know is where your brothers have gone.” He said leaning down to be eye level with you. You responded by spitting blood in his face. “Rude.” He says wiping the blood of his face with disgust. “Well I’ve tried to be nice.” He says gently rubbing your arm before snapping it back.

Keep reading

  • Skulduggery: But really, Professor, there was no harm done.
  • Kenspeckle: They broke seven of your ribs and fractured your clavicle.
  • Skulduggery: Ah, but I got off several cutting remarks which no doubt did serious damage to their egos.
  • Kenspeckle: Detective, this isn't funny.
  • Skulduggery: I'm serious, Professor! Thanks to your help I'm almost completely healed, but the damage I did to them will last a lifetime.

Luke laid in a hospital bed, tubes hooked up to his nose and his arms and his legs. He felt so tangled in thoughts and softly moving tubes of IV. He’d managed to survive the attack, being admitted with two broken ribs, a fractured kneecap, a broken arm, a broken wrist, a fractured shoulder blade, a black eye, and a lost tooth. His body was bruised and throbbing, one side of his face nearly black. Why had all of this happened to him? He was too nice. He was too mean. He didn’t work hard enough. He fell in love. All of it at once and he didn’t know how to handle it. With this near death experience he was lost, scared he’d never find his place unless it was he charlies if they even wanted him. And his basketball career was done for. All he wanted was to be happy. Was that so much to ask for?

He heard the door open, looking over but unable to really move. He was shocked anyone was even visiting him. Not like he was relevant anymore. Barely able to speak, he let out a noise to let them know he could see and hear them.