york hospital

3

Transgender woman fatally attacked in New York identified as 59-year-old Brenda Bostick

  • The transgender woman who died at a New York hospital Thursday after being brutally attacked on April 25 has been identified by police, who are calling the incident a homicide.
  • The New York Police Department on Monday said the city’s medical examiner has identified the victim as 59-year-old Brenda Bostick, a black trans woman who was involved in an apparent dispute with another unidentified individual before she was attacked the same night.
  • “It is being investigated by the 13th precinct,” NYPD Sgt. Lee Jones said in a phone call. “It’s been deemed a homicide by the medical examiner’s office.”
  • According to GLAAD, at least nine other transgender people have been killed in 2017, all of whom were transwomen of color. Read more (5/8/17)
In the second half of the century, these fumbling experiments with the female interior gave way to the more decisive technique of surgery—aimed increasingly at the control of female personality disorders. There had been a brief fad of clitoridectomy (removal of the clitoris) in the eighteen sixties, following the introduction of the operation by the English physician Isaac Baker Brown. Although most doctors frowned on the practice of removing the clitoris, they tended to agree that it might be necessary in cases of nymphomania, intractable masturbation, or “unnatural growth” of that organ. (The last clitoridectomy we know of in the United States was performed in 1948 on a child of five, as a cure for masturbation.)

The most common form of surgical intervention in the female personality was ovariotomy, removal of the ovaries—or “female castration.” In 1906 a leading gynecological surgeon estimated that there were 150,000 women in the United States who had lost their ovaries under the knife. Some doctors boasted that they had removed from fifteen hundred to two thousand ovaries apiece. According to historian G. J. Barker-Benfield: “Among the indications were troublesomeness, eating like a ploughman, masturbation, attempted suicide, erotic tendencies, persecution mania, simple ‘cussedness,’ and dysmenorrhea [painful menstruation]. Most apparent in the enormous variety of symptoms doctors took to indicate castration was a strong current of sexual appetitiveness on the part of women.” The rationale for the operation flowed directly from the theory of the “psychology of the ovary”: since the ovaries controlled the personality, they must be responsible for any psychological disorders: conversely, psychological disorders were a sure sign of ovarian disease. Ergo, the organs must be removed…

The overwhelming majority of women who had leeches or hot steel applied to their cervices, or who had their clitorises or ovaries removed, were women of the middle to upper classes, for after all, these procedures cost money. But it should not be imagined that poor women were spared the gynecologist’s exotic catalog of tortures simply because they couldn’t pay. The pioneering work in gynecological surgery had been performed by Marion Sims on black female slaves he kept for the sole purpose of surgical experimentation. He operated on one of them thirty times in four years, being foiled over and over by post-operative infections. After moving to New York, Sims continued his experimentation on indigent Irish women in the wards of the New York Women’s Hospital. So, though middle-class women suffered most from the doctors’ actual practice, it was poor and black women who had suffered through the brutal period of experimentation.
—  Barbara Ehrenreich & Deirdre English, For Her Own Good: Two Centuries of the Experts’ Advice to Women

At least 7 Russian officials have turned up dead since November

  • Vitaly Churkin, Russia’s ambassador to the United Nations, died suddenly in New York earlier this week, apparently of cardiac arrest.
  • Churkin, Russia’s envoy to the U.N. since 2006, reportedly became ill at his Russian Mission office in Manhattan on Monday and died at New York-Presbyterian Hospital. He was to turn 65 the next day.
  • The New York City medical examiner said more study is required into the cause and manner of Churkin’s death, though federal law enforcement has said it does not believe there was any foul play.
  • Still, because Russia is no stranger to political murders, the sudden death of a Russian official automatically raises suspicion. 
  • So while Churkin may indeed have died of natural causes, some have noted that it follows several other recent deaths of Russian officials, all occurring suddenly or under mysterious circumstances — including a man who is believed to have helped former M16 spy Christopher Steele compile his bombshell dossier on Donald Trump’s links to Russia. Read more (2/27/17 4:59 AM)
Ice Ice Baby (Lin x Reader)

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

TW: very little swearing

Summary: You injure yourself while rehearsing as Angelica and Lin insists on accompanying you to the hospital

Word Count: 2,639 

“Pippa!” Your fingers fumbled with the back of your pink dress as you sighed. It was only the first day of tech week and you already wanted to punch something.

Pippa inched her head through the small opening in the door to your dressing room, a giggle peeking through her lips. “Yes?”

A low noise of frustration escaped your throat. “How do you get this damn thing on?” You swiftly turned around to see Pippa already fitted in her baby blue dress. “What? How did you do that?!”

Pippa let out a hearty laugh as she gestured for you to turn around. “A magician never reveals her secrets, Y/N.”

“You know, everyone says you’re sweet and pure, but I think there’s something under that going on. Some sort of evil sorcery that allows you to be able to put on any dress with ease.”

She hummed in response. “So…” You felt her delicate fingers work with the complex backing of your dress. “You and Lin, huh?”

Your eyes darted around the room as your mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. “What about us?”

“I mean, when are you gonna tell him?” She whispered, a mischievous grin falling on her face.

“Tell him what?”

“You know.”

Your shoulders slumped; you did know. You and Lin weren’t in a relationship, as much as you wished you were. You had had a massive crush on the man who seemed to hold all the stars in his bright eyes since you auditioned for the role of Angelica. The feeling had washed over you too quickly and all at once when you first settled your eyes on him. He seemed aware and interested in everything you had to say and every move you made, as if he was afraid to forget it.

“Yeah.” You grumbled. “I don’t know, I’m sure he doesn’t like me back.”

Pippa huffed, her eyebrows furrowing as her fingers left the pieces of your dress. “Y/N, that’s just nonsense.”

You turned around as Pippa’s eyes flitted over to the door, just spotting Jon walking by.

“Oh! Groff!” She grabbed him by the arm of his intricate costume, pulling him into your dressing room. “Question.”

“What’s up?” His eyes scanned over your costumes, a kind smile spreading on his face.

“Does Lin like Y/N?”

“Oh, absolutely.” He chuckled, as if the answer was obvious. “Have you seen him lately? Can’t keep his eyes off you.”

You shook your head dismissively, crossing your arms over your chest. “There’s no way.”

Jon shrugged his shoulders, shooting you a smirk as he walked out of the room. “Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

“You know, you really should’ve listened to him. He’s right.”

“Sure he is. There’s no possibility Lin could like someone like me.” You bit your lip absentmindedly as you sat down, pulling on your heeled shoes.

“Heads up; we’re doing Winter’s Ball through Satisfied in five!” Lin poked his head through the door as he sent a exuberant grin towards Pippa before his eyes softened and settled on you, looking over your costume. “You’re gonna kill it.”

“But doesn’t Leslie kill it?” You beamed at Lin, sending him ironic finger guns.

“Oh my god, Y/N.” Lin’s laugh lit up the room as he ran a hand over his face, sharing a groan with Pippa. “Ah, anyways, you might wanna make your way towards the stage.” He jerked a thumb behind him.

“Copy that.” Pippa nodded, giving him a thumbs up as he walked in the same direction he had just pointed towards. As soon as he left the room, Pippa sharply turned in her chair, raising an amused eyebrow at you. “You saw the way he looked at you, right?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile plastered on your face as you stood from your chair and got adjusted to wearing the heels beneath your feet. “You’re never gonna let this go, aren’t you…?”

“Nope!” She said, popping the “p” as she walked out of the dressing room, you at her heels. Your dresses swished and swayed behind you as you walked to the side of the stage, where A Winter’s Ball was already playing. You glanced at Lin and Leslie they exchanged “heys” before you and Pippa took the stage.

Pippa’s voice rang throughout the theatre as you walked towards Lin, feigning chatter.

“Where are you taking me?” Lin turned his head towards you as you linked arms.

“I’m about to change your life.” You escorted him towards Pippa.

“Then, by all means, lead the way.”

As Lin and Pippa delivered their lines and shared a kiss, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of jealousy surge through you. You almost missed your cue as Helpless soon bled into Satisfied.

You dug your nails into your palm as you raised your glass, smiling at Lin and Pippa. Jasmine snuck a glance at you, lightly nudging you in the ribs. She slyly raised her eyebrows, curious as to what was distracting you.

Dismissing her suspicions, you spun to the middle of the stage. Everyone around you sang, gracefully moving in slow motion as the time shifted back to Angelica and Alexander’s meeting.

“But, Alexander, I’ll never forget the first time I saw your face.” You swiftly turned your head towards Lin, who gazed at you in mid-step.

You finished singing your lines as Lin stopped in front of you, tilting his chin up. “You strike me as a woman who’s never been satisfied.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, you forget yourself.” You dipped your head low, peeking up at Lin through your coated eyelashes.

“You’re like me, I’m never satisfied.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you cocked your head to the side. “Is that right?”

“I have never been satisfied.” Lin smiled, taking your hand in his and kissing it as the company gasped. You couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks as you exchanged a few more words.

Your movements were crisp as you rapped effortlessly, your shoulders held back.

“Where are you taking me?” Lin repeated as you joined him once more.

“I’m about—” your words were cut off by the painful rolling of your ankle as you collapsed at Lin’s feet. “Shit!” You hissed, staring in horror at your foot.

Lin jumped, immediately crouching down to you as Lac signaled the orchestra to cease playing. The cast instantly crowded around you as Lac, Andy, and Tommy politely pushed their way through the people surrounding you.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Lin’s eyes searched your face. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

You inhaled sharply as you nodded vigorously. Lin and Andy grasped your upper arms as you slowly stood up, shifting your weight to your good foot.

“What happened?” Tommy’s eyes were wide in shock, flitting between your pained expression and ankle.

“As soon as we got to the next section she must’ve twisted her ankle or something.” Lin’s voice was filled with panic, his worried eyes constantly shifting to you. “Someone call an ambulance, please!”

“Already did!” You heard Anthony yell from the back of the crowd, holding his phone up.

“Thanks.” Lin breathed out, looking at you. “Took quite a tumble there,” he laughed half heartedly, desperate to lighten the mood.

You let out a breathy laugh, turning your head to face him. “Yeah, I was walking then my ankle just decided to fuck me over.”

You heard light chuckles as a man in a white uniform opened the door to the theatre. Your cast members parted from you to take a look at the sudden light that flooded the room. “Can you guys carry her, or would you like me to bring in a wheelchair?”

“Oh, no, we can—”

Lin’s voice was cut off by your words. “No, Lin, I can see that you and Andy are struggling. A wheelchair would be great, thanks.”

The man nodded, a humorous smile on his face as he closed the door. He entered a moment later, making his way to the stage as he splayed out a wheelchair in front of you. Lin and Andy slowly guided you into the chair, exchanging a few grunts of effort. “One of you can tag along with us if you’d like. You don’t have to, of course, just an option.”

“I’ll go.” Lin immediately took a step forward, red flushing his full cheeks as the cast shared knowing glances to each other. “I-I mean, it’s kinda my fault, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, you can go with your girlfriend.” Daveed sent him a toothy grin, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at you as Lin’s eyes drifted to the floor.

“Alright, let’s get you to the vehicle. My name’s Ryan, by the way.” The man in the uniform grabbed your wheelchair by its handles, maneuvering it around the twists and turns in the theatre with Lin at Ryan’s heels. He pushed you up the ramp into the back of the ambulance, waiting for Lin to enter before closing the doors and moving to another part of the . The ambulance began to move down the streets of New York towards the hospital as you and Lin exchanged some small talk.

“Oh my god—” your head snapped up, your eyes widening in realization as your fists curled in your lap.

“What’s wrong?” Lin’s head immediately turned to you.

“The show’s next week, Lin, what if I don’t heal in time? I can’t miss opening night.”

“Oh,” Lin’s voice grew quiet as his eyes darted around the room, searching for something to make you feel better. “Y/N, these are trained doctors, I’m sure they can work something out. In the case that your ankle doesn’t heal in time, anyway, we’ll make arrangements so you won’t miss the first show.”

You gaped at Lin, searching his facial features for any sign of deception. His smooth chocolate eyes bored into yours with utter seriousness. “You wouldn’t.”

“Y/N, it’s me we’re talking about, in the first person who would do this…especially for you.” His gaze suddenly found interest in the floor, a timid grin on his face. Your breath hitched in your throat, a shade of pink searing through your cheeks as a silence settled.

“Sorry to leave you guys in here alone, I’m making a few calls, heh. Have to use all the time I can since rides to the hospital are usually busy. But, this is considered a non-emergency, so it’s not as urgent. Here, I’m just gonna elevate your leg and ice your ankle. This is all kind of part of the acronym, RICE: rest, ice, compression, and elevation. Anyways, ice and elevation will reduce your swelling and minimize your pain. I’m sure the doctor will go over this with you, too.” Ryan abruptly burst in the room, an exhausted smile gracing his features as he took care of your ankle with extreme caution.

He kneeled down as his tentative hands aided your ankle, tossing intermittent phrases back and forth: “Am I hurting you?” and “You okay?” After a few minutes, he stood up, tilting his head and firmly pressing his lips together before nodding in satisfaction. “You should be good until we get to the hospital. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call for me.” He swiftly left through the door, shutting it behind him.

A thick silence between you and Lin filled the air, spare for the few clearing of throats and tapping of feet against the floor.

A sudden choked noise escaped Lin’s throat, a euphoric grin tugging at his lips as his eyes crinkled and he glanced at the ice placed over your ankle. “Ice, ice, baby!” He guffawed, slapping his knee. His laugh proved to be highly contagious as you found yourself cackling, leaning back as tears brimmed your eyes.

Dun dun dun da da dun dun,” you sputtered, the both of you throwing your heads back in hysterics.

You continued your conversation with ease, mostly because Lin was always easy to talk to. He leaned forward in anticipation, clinging onto every word you said and nodding his head eagerly. You soon reached the hospital, Ryan ushering you through the doors and to your room where a doctor greeted you. She introduced herself politely, shaking both yours and Lin’s hands with a firm grip.

She quickly hopped onto the computer in the room, thoroughly explaining that you needed x-rays to determine what you did to your ankle. She rolled her chair over to you, examining your ankle more thoroughly than Ryan had. She wheeled you out of the room, transferring you to an almost identical room with multiple machines residing in it. She went through the procedure of taking your x-ray with you before leaving you in the first room with Lin as she scanned over the x-rays.

The doctor emerged from the hallway, her hand immediately reaching for the mouse attached to the computer as she clicked numerous times until an image of the bones in your ankle appeared on the screen.

“Okay well, good news, your ankle is not broken. On here, there weren’t any fractures to be found. But when I was examining it, there was a lot of tenderness and limited range of motion. So, bad news, your ankle is still sprained.” She delved deeper into your recovery, what you could do to aid your ankle in healing faster and how to take care of it.

You and Lin alternated between nodding and asking questions, until you cleared your throat before speaking.

“One more thing, uh,” you fidgeted, suddenly aware of your clammy palms as you gestured to Lin. “We’re both running through rehearsals for a Broadway show that’s due for its opening night next week. Do you think I’d be able to be dancing by then?”

“Oh!” She snapped her fingers in realization, nodded her head quickly. “Yes, most likely. This is a grade one sprain, so it will take about seven to ten days to heal. As long as you keep an eye on the swelling and take good care of your ankle, you should be fine. Is that it?”

“Yes,” you smiled graciously. “Thank you so much.”

She shook both of your hands as she opened the door. “As soon as you’re ready you can go to the front desk, pay, and I can provide you with the supplies you’ll need. Alright?”

As soon as she was out of your line of sight, you and Lin collectively sighed in relief, shooting each other a bright smile.

“See, I told you things would work out.” Lin crouched down next to you to reach your height in the chair. He took your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles, which were white from clenching your fists out of anxiousness. His warm touch instantly soothed you.

You nodded appreciatively, looking at Lin with a great adoration in which he returned. His eyes scanned over you, filled with an indescribable love and kindness that flooded your chest with warmth. He leaned forward, his hot breath fanning your cheeks as his eyes leveled with yours.

“Would now be a bad time to kiss you?” Lin’s voice was a soft murmur, his dilated gaze shifting from your slightly ajar lips to your admiring eyes.

“Not a chance.” You whispered against Lin’s lips which eagerly, yet gently, pressed against yours. Your hands found their way to the back of his neck, his cupping your face as the pads of his thumbs caressed your cheeks. You felt him smile against your lips as you sighed into the kiss. You pulled away slowly as Lin’s hands still lingered.

You both broke into exuberant grins, your cheeks burning as Lin looked up at you. “I should’ve done that a lot sooner.”

Little Sick Stark

Pairing/Characters: Dad!Tony x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Reader gets sick, near death experience

Summary: When you don’t come by your dad’s office one day, Tony wonders where you are only to receive a phone call that answers his question.

Word Count: 862

A/N: A few hundred words less then what I usually write but I hope it’s alright! I’ve never experience appendicitis either so I just googled hahhaa! Please don’t hesitate to leave me feedback as I do love reading all of your reactions because it makes me smile! My ask is linked at the bottom along with my masterlist!

Originally posted by luvindowney

Keep reading

Joey Ramone was rushed to the New York Hospital Burn Center and was treated for burns in 1977 after a vaporizer he used to open his vocal cords blew up in his face before The Ramones performed one evening. This incident inspired him to write “I Wanna Be Sedated”.  Photo by Danny Fields.

2

Most motorcycle clubs don’t allow women to join, so what did Jen Baquial from New York do? She created her own motorcycle club for women called The Sirens Women’s Motorcycle Club of New York City. If that alone isn’t badass, the fact that this nonprofit organisation collects and pasteurises breast milk to deliver to newborn babies and mothers in New York hospitals, certainly is. In addition to this kind gesture, they also raise money for the New York Milk Bank.

Sometimes you find the darnedest things lying about abandoned buildings… on the second floor of the Fort Totten Army Hospital in Queens, I found this plastic riding grasshopper.  How this object got into a building that had been abandoned for decades is beyond me - the documents on how to zero a .50 caliber machine gun in the basement at least made sense!

Waiting (Part Four)

Tony impresses Steve with his genius, and Steve realizes that Tony really has one of the softest hearts in the world. Then sexy times because… well, you know. And feels. You guys thought I was joking about the stupid amount of fluff in this fic and I totally wasn’t. These two are ridiculous.

ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS HERE

Enjoy:)

*****************

“So this…” Steve turned in a slow circle, trying to take in the enormity of Tony’s lab. “This is all yours? This is incredible.”

“Yeah, it does alright.” Tony grinned at him from his desk chair, tapping idly on his tablet and watching the 3D graphic hovering in the air above him change with each typed command.

“Where would you even find technology like this?” Steve was just in awe, couldn’t stop staring at the computers, at the huge screens, at the diagrams and projections Tony could manipulate with just his fingers. He was even impressed/ scared to death by JARVIS, and Tony had laughed for a full five minutes when JARVIS had calmly greeted Steve as he entered the lab, and Steve had hit the ground, looking around for who could have such a booming voice.

“Baby, I invented this.” Tony waved his hand around the room. “Some of it is re-dos from Dads things, but most of it is just mine.”

“You invented all this?”

“Theres a reason Fury is pressing you to play nice with me so I help the military out.” Tony responded drily. “It’s not for my charm. Definitely for my tech. Not just the weapons we build either, Fury wants things like my AI’s and this little program–” he set his tablet down and waved his hands towards a corner, and a life size hologram of a man filled the space, detailed down to the pumping heart and  the veins running through the see-through fingers.

“This gem is something I’ve been working on for a few years. It basically acts as a 3D xray of a patient, that a doctor can then walk up to and mess with, see where breaks are or nerve blockages or tumours. Then the doctor can simulate a fix or a medication, and see in real time how the body would react. No more experimental procedures, no more hunting around in someone’s body to find cancer. It’s all right here. Obviously it’s more complicated than that, but that’s… I mean thats basically it.

“Tony, something like this could change the world.” Steve said earnestly. One of his favorite things about this new century was medical technology. Nobody died from small pox anymore. Diabetes was completely manageable. Asthma was barely a bump in the road. It was incredible. “Why wouldn’t you share this?”

“Because men like Fury don’t want it to cure cancer.” Tony said bitterly. “Fury wants it to test biological weapons on soldiers without actually using soldiers. To test things like that lovely serum you have pumping through your veins. He wants to use it to find better ways to kill people, and that’s not what the program is for. He told me it would help soldiers because as they fire simulated weapons at the hologram they can see exactly where the bullet goes and how much damage it can cause. They can test better ammunition, different bullets. No more trial and error.” He shook his head. “No, I know that the military can absolutely do some good with this program, but it would end up just being used to find faster ways to kill soldiers and I am not okay with that. Stark Industries has made enough money designing weapons. 99% of what we do now is purely tech and armor. Defensive not offensive.”


“So you just keep it here?” Steve asked, and watched the hologram curiously. “You’re never going to share it? I admire you for not just handing it over to the military, not with reasons like that, but isnt it wasted sitting in your lab?”

“Actually.” Tony clicked on something on his computer and the hologram switched from pale blue to red, the veins turning white. “When you and I go to the Captain America Annual Ball and Charity Gala for the Children tonight, I will be donating the program to the New York City Children’s hospital.”

“Sorry, the Captain America—”

“Annual Ball and Charity Gala for the Children.” Tony finished. “Dad started it after he and Mom got together. Named it after you because everyone’s willing to donate to something patriotic like the memory of a soldier. And now that you are home again, it will be a hell of a turnout. Last year something like seventeen million was donated to the Children’s hospital from this event. I imagine we will double that this year.”

“Wow.” Steve was impressed, floored really at that amount of money. “So you are just going to give them this program?”

“Right.” Tony started shutting down his programs, even though the hologram in the corner stayed there. “Because kids shouldn’t have to be held down and poked and prodded and sent for dozens of tests just for the doctors to tell the parents something awful. No this will change all that. Maybe won’t change the diagnosis, but now at least they will know right away what’s wrong and options instead of finding out too late.”

“And I’m donating it,” he continued, folding his arms over his chest. “Because it shouldn’t cost money to find out what’s hurting your child. I’ve known people who lost their homes paying for medical bills and that's…” his jaw clenched. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard. This program will cost the hospital nothing, and I’ve written into the contract that if they charge the patients when they  need to use it that I will absolutely take it back.”

“You’re amazing.” Steve murmured, and held out his hand to pull Tony to his feet. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”

“Yeah well, my soulmate spent an awful lot of time sick.” Tony half joked, his eyes serious. “The least I can do is make sure everyone else’s soulmates grow up healthy right? At least until super soldier serum becomes available over the counter?”

Keep reading

5

BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS

I bought the entire Harry Potter series for $11! (Can you believe I’ve managed to go this long without reading them? I haven’t even watched the movies! What kind of person am I? The kind who waits 15 years to buy the set for $11.)

In fact, I got 11 books total for only $15. Ohhhh I can’t wait to take them home and try to fit them in my already full bookcases. Reading is so awesome.

The Alphabet of Love // Rafael Casal

Here I am, this was not the first thing in writing queue but it just begged to be written.

I blame Ren ( @alexanderhamllton ) for turning me into Rafa trash and thank Charley ( @always-blame-jefferson ) for listening to my ideas.

My other stuff is here!

Requests are always  open!

Word Count:3743, I’m not even sorry.

-

The Alphabet of Love


A is for Airport.

That’s where you first met.

Keep reading

2

Trained in pediatric care at the New York Foundling Hospital, these nurses were prepared to offer critical services to children in need.

As National Nurses’ Week kicks off, remember to thank all the fine professionals who do one of the hardest jobs in health care.

Graduating class portraits. circa 1953-1965. Records of the New York Foundling Hospital. Series IV, Subseries IV.28 - Nurse Training School (Infant and Child Care Technicians), 1915-2000 (bulk 1924-1972). New-York Historical Society.