they call me the avoider for reasons i don't really want to talk about

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@a-ndreey
they call me the avoider for reasons i don't really want to talk about
Post-storm at Ruby Beach
pomegranate pngs ! credit not necessary for pngs! like or reblog to use, don't repost as your own please.
i wish it was 1600 so i cood spelle words howe everr my harte desyred
the avatar movies are crazy bc "what if colonizers literally inhabited and puppeteered the bodies of indigenous peoples in order to exploit their homeland" sounds like the premise of some sort of anticolonial horror film, like specifically the kind of thing that would be commenting on self-indigenization among white settlers, but because it's James Cameron his whole takeaway from that premise is "it would be preddy cool"
actually sorry. the takeaway is also "the white settler possessing an indigenous body would actually be extremely good, perhaps even The Best, at being indigenous, and he would become their Leader"
avoidance has saved me from everything it's also killed me a hundred million times
avoidance has saved me from everything it's also killed me a hundred million times
This is a painting to me.
Safe - Anna Calleja , 2020.
Maltese , b. 1997 -
Oil on panel , 30 x 40 in.
[ID: A painting centered on a brown tabby cat held securely in the arms of a person in a thick, gray cable-knit sweater. They're seated together with soft sunlight coming in from the right, and the cat's tail curls relaxedly over the person's arm. Its eyes are squinted, as if slowly closing to sleep /End ID]
I have been thinking a lot about what a cancer diagnosis used to mean. How in the ‘80s and ‘90s, when someone was diagnosed, my parents would gently prepare me for their death. That chemo and radiation and surgery just bought time, and over the age of fifty people would sometimes just. Skip it. For cost reasons, and for quality of life reasons. My grandmother was diagnosed in her early seventies and went directly into hospice for just under a year — palliative care only. And often, after diagnosis people and their families would go away — they’d cash out retirement or sell the house and go live on a beach for six months. Or they’d pay a charlatan all their savings to buy hope. People would get diagnosed, get very sick, leave, and then we’d hear that they died.
And then, at some point, the people who left started coming back.
It was the children first. The March of Dimes and Saint Jude set up programs and my town would do spaghetti fundraisers and raffles and meal trains to support the family and send the child and one parent to a hospital in the city — and the children came home. Their hair grew back. They went back to school. We were all trained to think of them as the angelic lost and they were turning into asshole teens right in front of our eyes. What a miracle, what a gift, how lucky we are that the odds for several children are in our favor!
Adults started leaving for a specific program to treat their specific cancer at a specific hospital or a specific research group. They’d stay in that city for 6-12 months and then they’d come home. We fully expected that they were still dying — or they’d gotten one of the good cancers. What a gift this year is for them, we’d think. How lucky they are to be strong enough to ski and swim and run. And then they didn’t stop — two decades later they haven’t stopped. Not all of them, but most of them.
We bought those extra hours and months and years. We paid for time with our taxes. Scientists found ways for treatment to be less terrible, less poisonous, and a thousand times more effective.
And now, when a friend was diagnosed, the five year survival odds were 95%. My friend is alive, nearly five years later. Those kids who miraculously survived are alive. The adults who beat the odds are still alive. I grew up in a place small enough that you can see the losses. And now, the hospital in my tiny hometown can effectively treat many cancers. Most people don’t have to go away for treatment. They said we could never cure cancer, as it were, but we can cure a lot of cancers. We can diagnose a lot of cancers early enough to treat them with minor interventions. We can prevent a lot of cancers.
We could keep doing that. We could continue to fund research into other heartbreaks — into Long Covid and MCAS and psych meds with fewer side effects and dementia treatments. We could buy months and years, alleviate the suffering of our neighbors. That is what funding health research buys: time and ease.
Anyway, I’m preaching to the choir here. But it is a quiet miracle what’s happened in my lifetime.
Cystic fibrosis used to be a "disease of childhood" because people who had it rarely lived to be adults. Now it's considered a chronic illness.
I know I'm saying this as someone who's career largely depends on this, but: please, this is why we need basic science research. If you ever see a headline or snippet about something "ridiculous" that scientists are doing, you are being propagandized. You are being lied to. And it's in a way that aims to stop this progress.
You've seen Self Diagnosis Is Bad, now let me introduce you to Diagnosis Is Bad. You've seen Diagnosis Is Bad, now let me introduce you to Classification Is Bad. You've seen Classification Is Bad, now let me introduce you to Language Is Bad. You've seen Language Is Bad, now let me introduce you to the Gong of Eternal Peace
OMMMMMM
Ptáček
Guess who just turned 1 year old :)
“Light falls on boardwalk” by Eizin Suzuki ☀ Summer blues cast impossible shadows on sun-bleached wood
Photo study