yixing drabble 01.

prompt: “It’s about to rain, get inside.”

lowercase intended

you could admit, maybe to yourself in your head where no one could hear, that it was your fault. it may have been possible that pointing out his dark circles and sluggish movements five times in a timespan of twenty minutes was slightly unnecessary, and snapping at him when he dismissed it as usual even more unneeded. the increase in your voice’s volume and dramatic hand movements had only intensified the problem, yixing’s patient and still position making it even worse. it was always his unresponsiveness that made it worse. it made you feel as though you were getting angry for no reason, which was not true.

sure, it might have been your fault that the pair of you had your third fight this week (it was only tuesday), but your intentions were clear and pure. you didn’t think it was unnecessary, you were just worried about him. he had finally got a week without any schedules planned and you had finally been able to sleep beside him, where you could watch and take care of him as much as you wanted. it was this attentiveness that got you realising just how hard he was pushing himself. 

he hadn’t been complaining of any pain, but you could tell his waist injury was getting to him more and more. on his first night back, he had arrived in your shared apartment in seuol at eleven pm and had practically stumbled on to the bed. without another word, you were massaging his waist the way his physiotherapist had told you, his sleepy groans of gratitude the only conversation you had had that night. you had been massaging him every night since saturday without him asking; he even had the audacity to refuse last night which was probably why you were feeling extra upset this morning about the situation. he was constantly dismissing his pains and never complained once. you were so worried how long it would be before he completely ruined himself.

sniffing once, you caught the tears in your eyes and wrapped your arms around your knees, shuddering against the cold. after shouting for about fifteen minutes about his health, his mentality, his admirable but dangerous work ethic he had printed into his mind and his management that didn’t look after him enough, and finally getting him to shout back, you had stormed out into the small balcony the apartment had and plonked yourself onto the chair. you weren’t sure just how long you’d be out, but you were petty so you knew it could be hours. you were angry because you didn’t want to baby him, he was a grown man that knew what he was doing, nor did you underestimate his abilities and strengths, you just wished it wouldn’t take such a toll on him.

“it’s about to rain, get inside.”

snapping your head to the door, you pursed your lips and blinked quickly, willing the tears to stop but he had already seen them. his expression was one of complete and utter calm and patience, but you could see the change in his eyes at the sight of your cheeks glistening. as if on cue, the clouds above you rumbled once and the rain started to fall on you, slow and steady. getting to your feet you took his outstretched hand and closed the door behind you, the warmth of your apartment soothing you.

you weren’t sure how to act so you followed him into the lounge area and sat beside him on the couch, lips pulled to the side and fingers playing with your sleeves. you didn’t argue often, it was extremely rare. so when you did, it wasn’t good. you heard him sigh, head in his hands and shoulders hunched. you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out a hand and rubbing it along his shoulder blades through his t-shirt.

“yixing, i am sorry,” you mumbled, getting a tut out of him in response.

baobei, you don’t need to be,” he breathes out, lifting his head and pulling you against him, legs on either side of his waist.

your eyes are still wet with tears so you bury your head in the crook of his neck, his hand running up and down your back. “i’m just worried about you, thats all. you’re tired, you don’t have to tell me for me to know yixing.”

his hand reaches your waist and you feel him squeeze it once, lips pressing against your ear before lifting your head with your chin.

“please stop crying, i hate to see you cry,” he speaks softly, kissing your cheeks and your lips slowly, with your head in your hands. “now you need to listen to me. i appreciate you’re worried about me, baobei i would be in ruins if you didn’t worry, who else would remind me to drink as much water as i should?” he chuckles quietly, your own lips curving upwards in a small smile. his brows were furrowed together though, his thumb wiping your cheeks as the tears finally stop.

“i appreciate you’re worried, but i’m okay. i promise you i’m okay–– no, just listen. it gets tough, i get tired, but its what i do. i have a responsibility, i have people depending on me and i don’t let people down.” 

you cup his cheeks in your hands now, nose touching his. again, his work ethic is one you’d never seen before in your life, it was one that amazed you beyond your wits. no matter how hard it was, yixing never backed down. he was constantly wanting to achieve more and give what people wanted. 

“i know the limits, i know what i can do and i know i have you if one day something happens,” his voice grew more and more soft, a look of content taking over his features as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“i am always here and i admire you so much, but i won’t ever not tell you to go to bed early. not ever,” you mumble with a pout, a laugh escaping him. “i want you to be healthy, all i want is for you to take care of yourself as well. i’m not asking for much.”

“alright,” he clasps your hands in his large ones, “if i don’t mention any pain or tiredness for the rest of the week, will you be satisfied and not worry when schedules start again?”

no, don’t even try it. since when do you ever mention any of that?” you shove him lightly, another laugh leaving him as he pulls you closer. “alright, no dancing this entire week, i massage you every morning and night and you listen to me, then i will be satisfied.”

“and no worrying?”

“i’m always worrying.”

he groans childishly, as if unable to win a game and you roll your eyes, peppering his face with kisses. “my baobei, i love you so much,” you say barely over a whisper against his lips, a smile on your face. 

“i love you too.”

In less cheerful news, they stopped sedating my gran today but she’s still asleep/unresponsive. Apparently it can take up to 4 days to be really settled though, so we’re still waiting and seeing.

shippersupreme  asked:

Okay okay, but what if Nico is like easily flustered? Headcanons maybe? K tx bai

his version of flustered is him just closing off, he gets unresponsive bc he’s over thinking his conversation and whoever he’s talking to thinks he hates them when he’s really thinking, hoky crap they’re actually talking to me what do I do and say oh gods he asked a question and I didn’t hear it what

Letters from the Depths of Solitude (The Thirty-Fifth)

Inebriating experience, when you are talking with a poet, for hours, in writing (as it is done in our world-lying-in-the-past), and you, it seems, feel the ultimate other to the point of confusing your hands and legs with theirs, and you know, you anticipate that a great writing should be and must be done, and is about to be done.

But then you are trying your keyboard, and it is just as unresponsive as ever, a primitive, crude instrument; letters, harsh and paining your eye; sphinx of syntax smiles without showing teeth or opening its pink mouth.

Things elude, escape, effortlessly dodge your attempts to pin them down, to freeze them forever; they evade gently, and flow through fingers slipping right into oblivion on your eyes, one by one, stumbling down, hitting each other. And you are made to witness their great fall, their unavoidable collapse.

When I was staring into a telescope of the kaleidoscope, in my childhood– and it was a simple kaleidoscope, a plastic tube with colorful shards–I had this exact feeling, of a great wanting to photograph every new turn I saw and the disappointment at the impossibility. And the despair of the realization that the final result, a series of snaps, even should it be taken, is just as ephemeral as kaleidoscope mosaics, if no more–to re-watch it takes twice as much time as it is to watch it; and great vistas are wrecked and ruined.

Jellyfishes have expired on the shore leaving no trace. All the insights and understandings, and the music of spheres I’ve just heard, does not translate into my writing, or not to the degree I wish it. Exhausting.

(Written on a music score in a library)

I guess I should fill you guys in.

The last few months have been terrible for me. Earlier this year my grandma had a sever stroke. This was her second. She was in the hospital for a month completely unresponsive. Basically in a vegetative state. While she was being moved to hospice, my Cat had a stroke and died. A week later my grandmother died as well.

After that, due to me not wanting to deal with the emotions I was feeling and me having to juggle outside stressors, I started to crack. Badly. I became mean. Snappy. Quick tempered. And because of it, i pushed away my girlfriend, who I love more than anything else in this world. And before everyone bashes her, she didn’t know how I was really feeling. I’d lie to her about how I was feeling and I’d resent her for not helping me. This is all my fault.

That combined with some other shit that came up earlier this month, I began seeing a therapist. According to her I have “sever depression and an anxiety disorder”. I’ve gotten so bad that I’m considering medication for it. I’m unhealthy. I’m emotional. I’m volatile. I’m broken. And I no longer think I’m gonna get better.

So for everyone wondering why I keep making extremely emo posts sounding like a whiny bitch, that’s why. I’m currently in the middle of a very sever mental breakdown as I type this. I just figured you guys and gals deserved the truth.

tagged by @ryanthedietcokeguy

Rules: you can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to. Put on your mp3 player, Itunes, spotify etc…. On shuffle and list the first ten songs, then tag ten people, no skipping songs. (you also have to put your favorite lyric from each song)

  1. Alfie - Lily Allen // “I’m trying to help you out so can you stop being a twat.”
  2. Leeds United - Amanda Palmer // “And who needs love when the sandwiches are wicked, and they know you at the Mac store?”
  3. Amputations - Death Cab for Cutie // “He’s unresponsive ‘cause you’re irresponsible.”
  4. Eighteen Cool - Hoodie Allen // “The cool kids never gonna miss me
    It’s all history.”
  5. You Don’t Know Me - Ben Folds ft. Regina Spektor // “We saw the couple in the coma and it was we who were the cliche.”
  6. Critical Hit - Ghost Mice // “You’ve gotta keep fighting until you lose or you win. Cross your fingers, roll the die.”
  7. Blinding - Florence + the Machine // “No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden.”
  8. Polarize - Twenty One Pilots // “Though I am running to you, all I feel is deny, deny, denial.”
  9. It’s Hard to Say “I Do” When I Don’t - Fall out Boy // “There’s nothing in your head or pocket, throat or wallet, that could change just how this goes.”
  10. Train Under Water - Bright Eyes // “Body of water, toxic and timeless, Atlantic ocean, New York skyline.”

i tag ocsquad, rt bi pan network, rthufflepuff, and rtpogo, as well as anybody else who wants to do this!




Recently my budgie, Belly Button, laid her first (unfertilized) egg out of a clutch. Even with all the preparations I’ve made for her, it came out a bloody mess, and she became extremely lethargic and unresponsive after. I rushed her to emergency care ASAP only to learn that another egg is trapped inside her vent. She hasn’t been able to lay it, is showing signs of being in pain, and may have to undergo surgery in order to get it removed; a procedure she has 25% chance of surviving. I’m extremely upset and afraid.

The vet gave me supplements and painkillers to bolster her immune system in an effort to help her pass it, but it’s not a guarantee. Just those alone have left me with a hefty charge. Other than the egg binding situation, she is in perfect health. Normally, I’m able to budget properly for regular veterinary care, but this took me by surprise. I don’t get paid until next week, and even then, my whole paycheck won’t be enough to cover the costs.

I need at least $475, and I need it soon as possible.

This is the first post I’ve ever made asking for financial help on tumblr. I hate to resort to this, but I’m swallowing my pride hoping it will save my baby.

People may think “oh, she’s just a parakeet” but this bird is one of the only sources of happiness in my life. She’s so affectionate and smart. Just last month she started mimicking “baby bird” in the cutest voice you’ll ever hear.

I’m crying my eyes out in the vet’s office as I type this, and I can’t set up a GoFundMe properly on mobile. My paypal is maiyo_saiga@yahoo.com, and you can donate by clicking here. Please, I’m begging whoever may read this. If you can’t donate, please reblog. I don’t want to lose my baby bird.

THE LINK HAS EXPIRED FOR WHATEVER REASON. YOU CAN ALSO DONATE BY GOING TO MY BLOG AND CLICKING THE BUTTON. Thank you so much to everyone who has donated. So far I have $185 raised, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay this much kindness

Backstory: I just started a new group on a 5E adventure I whipped up to introduce someone who was completely new to the game. The party consisted of a Dwarven Fighter (Rurik), a Elven Fighter (Kiero), a Tiefling Bard (Music), and a Human Wizard (Otter). They had entered the town and were figuring out how to get the information they wanted about this summons from the duke. After some deliberation, they decided to ask some beggars.

GM: You approach one of the figures slumped against the wall. He doesn’t respond as you approach.

Kiero: Scum, won’t even look up when he has visitors.

Music: Hello? Can you hear us?

GM: The man is still unresponsive, he may be sleeping.

Otter (OOC): I nudge him with my quarterstaff.

GM: The figure falls limply, maggots falling from his mouth as flies circle above him. It’s clear that he’s been dead for several days now.

Music: Disgusting!

Otter: …Might as well loot the body, see what he’s got on him

Otter (OOC): Can I do that?

GM: Uh, sure, I don’t see why not. Roll Investigation.

Otter: *rolls a 7*

GM: You stick your hands deep into the rotting corpse, pulling out nothing but maggots and decaying viscera. The smell is vomit-inducing.

Otter: …I regret much

The rest of the party then drags him away before anyone notices what happened and continues on the adventure. Otter later attempts to get the Duke to shake his maggot-covered hand and the Duke politely declined

anonymous asked:

oh my gods more plane crash fic when you set the chance please? ITS SO GOOD AND LOVE YOUR BLOG SO MUCH

Anon 2: Will you continue the airplane fic? Love your work!

Part 1

The words buzzed in Will’s head while he drove, pushing him to go faster. Three unconscious survivors. Three unresponsive survivors. What are the odds? Three in ninety-eight. If Will’s brain didn’t fail him at three in the morning, the number was something like zero point zero three. He had a less than zero chance that Nico was one of the unresponsive. But the hospital was sure, they asked Will to come identify the body at three in the morning. They must be fairly confident that it was Nico if they wanted him to come by now instead of waiting for morning.

Will parked as fast as humanly possible and ran into the ER, skidding to a stop at the nurse’s desk. Her bright blue eyes grew wary at the sight of him. “Mr. Solace?” Will nodded as she stood up, pointing down the hall. “Last room on your left.”

Will was cautious walking into the room, reminding himself that the man on the bed may not be his husband, but he couldn’t keep his hope from rising.

Only Will’s medical training keep him from getting sick at the sight that greeted him inside. The man was badly burned on the right side, and a large array of sickening bruises covered him. The inky black hair was singed at the ends, and it was obvious his hip was shattered. Will couldn’t stop staring, searching for any sign he could find that this was Nico. That this was his husband.

A nurse walked into the room, pulling Will from his search. Her voice was soft, but trained. “Take all the time you need, Mr. Solace, but we do need confirmation that this is Nico di Angelo so we can pull his files and start proper treatment.” She didn’t say anything about if it wasn’t Nico. He imaged they’d be back at square one though, pulling data from the airplane company to see who was on the flight. To try and match a name to the scarred face that lay before Will.

The nurse watched him quietly, moving around and checking the vitals and adjusting the tubes. Will appreciated her effort, but her presence made him want to scream. He couldn’t look for Nico in this man if she kept pressing buttons that made annoyingly loud beeping noises. Just the sounds from the heart monitor and the oxygen were enough to make Will want to leave the room.

He sat gingerly on the man’s non-burned side, looking at his hand. Nico had such elegant hands, long and slender, the hands of a musician, with pianist fingers that were always so adept at finding the weak spots in Will’s sides. Will gave a watery smile before picking up the hand.

“We do have the ring that was found on him.” Will looked up at the nurse as she handed him a small bag with a gold ring in it. Will pulled it out and tried to wipe the grime and soot from it. His stomach dropped when he recognized the script engraved inside it.

Forever and Always, Death Boy.

I love pain

You may know AnneMOliver.  She is, after all, one of the greats among dramione writers.    You may, for example, have read A Marriage Most Convenient.  Written in 2009-2010, it’s a classic.

This girl on Wattpad must have liked it, given she copied it word for word, including the actual author’s dedication on the final chapter to her deceased father, and claimed it as her own.

She is refusing to remove it, despite requests from the author and several other people, and Wattpad is being unresponsive, despite obvious proof it was published on Anne’s account on FFN before this girl even joined Wattpad.  If you have a moment to go an CIVILLY request she remove her plagiarized work, Anne would very much appreciate it.

Wattpad continues to seem like a hotbed of theft; this is the second plagiarized story of heard about on that site today.  I don’t understand why they have no apparent interest in cleaning up their reputation.

Connor could say that right now, he was absolutely miserable. His body was forced to bend in a painful way, agitating old wounds and new ones. The bite marks on his neck were visible, as were the blooming bruises on his ass and damn near everywhere else on his body. The guards hadn’t been gentle when they stuffed him into this cage to put on display, and already he was a mess, the more fucked up ones jacking off and leaving their messy marks on him. Connor was too weak to care still, eyes half lidded as his blood loss from the Enforcer’s bites kept him rather limp and unresponsive in his cage. He felt sick too–having not eaten or had anything to drink.

What a Relief- Steve x Reader(F)

So this idea popped into my head randomly today and I actually had the time to sit down and write the whole thing. *gasp!*

 NOTES/WARNINGS:  None really. just a bit o’ fluff at the end. :)

Originally posted by ageofimagines

(Y/N) cradled Steve’s head in her lap. She screamed for help but the coms were down. He had taken a blast to the chest just as he threw his shield at the last Hydra agent. (Y/N) now sat in the dirt with Steve and he was barely breathing.

 “Steve,” She pleaded through her tears. “Come on, soldier, we’ve got to keep moving. These are your orders.”

 (Y/N) tapped the com in here ear again. “Does anyone read me? Steve is down and unresponsive. Please! I think we’re just north of the jet. I can’t carry him, someone please respond!”

 Steve’s eye flickered open and he frowned when he saw the terror on (Y/N)’s face. He struggled but placed his hand on her arm. Her head whipped down to look at him and she put her hand against his cheek.

 “Are you okay?” Steve whispered.

 “Me? I’m fine, what about you? Can you move? What hurts?” She asked quickly. She glanced down to the wound that had burned Steve’s skin and suit. His chest had taken most of the impact and she still didn’t understand what possesed him to take a hit like that.  She did know, he did it because that’s the kind of man he is. That blast was meant for her.

 “I feel like saying everywhere would be a bit dramatic, but its the truth.” He tried to mock his own pain. He winced and clutched his side.

 (Y/N) smiled as a tear fell down her cheek. “I need to get my hands on some of that super soldier serum. Your pretty chipper for a guy who almost died for no reason.”

 “I had a pretty good reason.” He said and made eye contact with the girl holding onto him so tight.

 “I can regenerate, you can’t. I would have been perfectly fine taking that hit.” (Y/N) reminded him.

 “I couldn’t just stand there and watch.” He sighed and closed his eyes.

 “You need medical attention.” (Y/N)’s panic began to start up again. “Coms are down and I can’t carry you.”

 “I can walk.” He said without moving, knowing very well that he was lying.

 “Yeah right,” (Y/N) skoffed. She looked up to what little sky she could see between the tree tops. “I’m hoping the jet will fly over and I can signal them down.”

 “Yeah,” He exhailed. He was fading. “That sounds…like…a good plan…” His voice became softer with every word until, finally, he passed out.


 Steve opened his eyes to see that he was back at the Avengers Facility, and more than that he was back in his own room. He sat up in his bed and rubbed his face. The last thing he remembered was being in the woods with (Y/N). He remembered being in pain. He pulled his shirt up and saw that his side had been completely healed, not even a scar.

 “Mr. Rodgers,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice came over the speakers in the celing. “It’s good to see you’re awake.”

 “Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Steve said as he walked to the bathroom.

 “Dr. Cho requested that you meet her in her lab as soon as you were up. Shall I let her know you’re on your way?” The sweet, Irish voice asked.

 Dr. Cho, that explains the miracle healing. “No, not yet.” Steve splashed some water on his face then patted his skin with a towel. “I’ve got a stop to make. Is (Y/N) still here?”

 “She is, Sir. She’s in the kitchen with Mr. Barnes and Miss Maxomoff.”

 “Thanks, I’ll meet Dr. Cho in a little while. No need to inform her.”

 “Of Course, Sir.” The A.I. relpied.

 Steve got dressed and headed down to the kitchen where he found (Y/N) sipping on a cup of coffee and Bucky and Wanda sitting beside her. (Y/N) jumped up when she saw Steve and so did Bucky.

 Bucky walked over and gave Steve a smile and a slap on the back. “You scared us, Steve. You were out cold.”

 “Yeah, well…” Steve grinned and glanced at (Y/N) who was still standing in front of her chair, at the table.

 “It’s good to see you, Captain.” Wanda smilled.

 “Thanks,” He shifted his weight. “You guys mind if I talk to (Y/N) alone, for a minute.”

 Bucky glanced at Wanda who bit her lip in order to hide the sly smile that threatened to break out across her face.

 “Sure.” Bucky nodded and escorted Wanda out but not before he turned back and threw a wink at Steve, who gave him the all too familiar ‘come on, man’ look.

 Steve turned back to (Y/N) and pulled his lips into a tight smile.

 “Hey” They said at the same time, both wanting to break the silence. They chuckled together.

 “I’m glad you’re okay.” (Y/N) said and bit the inside of her lip.

 “I was actually coming to talk to you about that.” He smiled. “Walk with me?”

 (Y/N) grinned and nodded. Steve gestured to the doors that lead outside to the training field. They walked together towards the trees while (Y/N) explained that not long after Steve passed out, Tony and Sam had flown over and spotted them on the ground. Tony took Steve back to the jet and she hitched a ride with Sam. As soon as they got back to the facility Dr. Cho immediately began working on Steve, using her latest tech to patch up his burned away flesh.

 By the time Steve was filled in they were sitting on a bench just inside the tree line. This was one of Steve’s favorite spots outside, he could see the facility but was far enough away to have some privacy.

 “Well, I’m glad you were there to help me.” Steve thanked her.

 “You shouldn’t have done it.” (Y/N) shook her head. “I get that I seem helpless because I’m new and young but I have been through much worse situations and I can handle myself.”

 “You were crying.” Steve remembered.

 “I wasn’t- that’s not-” (Y/N) stumbled through her words trying to find a good reason to have been upset.

 “Don’t worry I won’t say anything I just…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I just need to know why.”

 (Y/N) looked up at the super soldier beside her. There was something about the way he asked that made her feel compelled to tell the truth. It was in his eyes, desperation.

 “I was scared that I’d lost you.” She confessed. “I was really scared.” She looked away from him afraid that he would see the tears that, even now, welled in her eyes.

 “I’m not going anywhere, (Y/N). Not while you’re around, anyways.” He smiled.

 “Yeah, I know. I guess I just-”

 She was cut off when he suddenly grabbed the back of her head and kissed her, gently, on the lips. If she was being honest, it was a much shorter kiss than she had wanted and she had been wanting one for a long time. She grabbed fist fulls of his shirt and pulled him back down, crashing her lips onto his.

 Taking the not-so-subtle hint, Steve wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tight into his strong arms. He had admired her for a long time and everyone kept telling him that she liked him but it wasn’t until he saw her crying over him that he had reason to think that she really did have feelings for him. And what a relief it was, being able to reveal his feelings for her, too.

“Is everything going to be okay?”
“Of course.”

My grandpa was home-hospitalized due to lung cancer that was spreading. One night he patted the side of the bed next to him, motioning for me to come sit next to him. I did. I held his hand and he asked me if everything was going to be okay. I hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, and had to leave the room shortly after so I didn’t break down and cry in front of him. The next day he was unresponsive. He passed away soon after. 

I’m still not sure if he was asking me if I’m going to be okay, if the family was, or if he was. It’s been years and I still miss him every waking second.

And yes, I’m still around, but… I’m taking a mental health break for a bit. Staying away from anything that looks vaguely like the Discourse and sticking to the light and fluffy. Which means I’m likely to be unresponsive. Sorry, folks, but I’ve gotta take care of myself first. I recommend that y’all do the same.

anonymous asked:

How did you felt when Donnie got seriously hurt while he was trying to find Leo?

Absolutely devastated. My heart dropped when I saw his brothers carrying him like that… he was completely unresponsive. But having Sensei there helped. He always helps to keep me calm.

I refused to leave Donnie’s side until he woke up. Which I know was selfish because the boys could have needed me when they went after Karai. But I just couldn’t bear to leave his side when he was in such a bad condition.

I’m glad I was there when he woke up.


Today you are admitted as a “John Doe,” found unresponsive at a crosswalk, s/p Pedestrian Struck, you go into Cardiac Arrest four more times on our shift, your injuries ones we have all seen before, but still strike us as far beyond comprehension of anything a human body should be subjected to. We end the day with a little hope - although it seems likely you will leave us tonight, and the fact that your family or loved ones are not with you leaves us with profound sadness.

Tomorrow, we learn your name. We will greet you with a roomful of people who have overnight discovered the devastating accident you succumbed to, your attending doctor will speak with your family explaining there is little to no hope for a meaningful recovery, and they will gently explain the possibility of organ donation. Your family will resist, stating they will not give up on you yet. Your nurses and resident doctors will continue to care for you, we know logically there is little hope for you coming back to the world, yet we will continue to care for you - for every patient we inherently know will not make it through the shift, there is intermittently that one patient we cling to hope,  that one patient that will surprise everyone.

About a week from now your attending doctor will once again try to convince your family that withdrawal of care is the only option, he will do rounds with his residents and nurses when one junior resident has the audacity to suggest surgical intervention. Your attending doctor will immediately say no, there is no hope, but the junior resident on your case won’t give up on this, so he risks the wrath of the attending and seeks a surgical consult.

About two weeks from now, you are out of your second surgery. Your medical attending argued with the surgical attending, and it would come as no surprise to anyone that this attending would cut down the junior resident, but even he knew your family should have the ultimate say.

“we haven’t given up hope, please try all you can.”

You are now converted to a trach, following the second surgery, you are following basic commands, you aren’t out of the woods, but there is hope.

About a month from now, you are out of bed simply to a chair, you are now on a trach collar, you are smiling for the first time since we met you. It is a smile that lights up our hearts.  No one is giving up hope now.

About three months from now when we, your nurses and junior resident visit you on the rehab floor, the day you will be discharged from the hospital; you are standing on your own, we see how tall you stand. You have your trach capped, we hear your voice for the first time, the words “thank you for not giving up” forever etched into our souls.

Artificial intelligence could transform healthcare, but we need to accept it first | Robohub
Artificial intelligence could transform healthcare, but we need to accept it first

Scientists in Japan reportedly saved a woman’s life by applying artificial intelligence to help them diagnose a rare form of cancer. Faced with a 60-year-old woman whose cancer diagnosis was unresponsive to treatment, they supplied an AI system with huge amounts of clinical cancer case data, and it diagnosed the rare leukemia that had stumped the clinicians in just ten minutes.

But efforts to use artificial intelligence, machine learning and big data in healthcare contexts have not been uncontroversial. On the one hand, there is wild enthusiasm – lives saved by data, new medical breakthroughs, and a world of personalised medicine tailored to meet our needs by deep learning algorithms fed by smartphones and FitBit wearables. On the other there’s considerable scepticism – a lack of trust in machines, the importance of individuals over statistics, privacy concerns over patient records and medical confidentiality, and generalised fears of a Brave New World. Too often the debate dissolves into anecdote rather than science, or focuses on the breakthrough rather than the hard slog that led to it. Of course, the reality will be somewhere in the middle.