Why hello there! My name is Sarah, nerd among nerds, lover of fanfiction and of course birds. Requests are open. 33, She/Her, health care worker, Canadian MDNI 18+
Listen, the man I am seeing admitted this to me recently and I nearly died because I was immediately turned on. And then he moaned for me for the first time...that's even hotter.
I just want to remind everyone with pets to hug them close because you never know when they will leave you.
Gertie, my umbrella cockatoo, and basically my baby...passed sometime over night and I got up at 5 am for my normal routine just to find that she had passed and I am not okay.
I don't know the how. I don't know the why and I just really don't care. All I know is that 8 years ago Gertie came into my life when I needed her the most, right after a complete mental breakdown, and now she's gone.
I have spent off and on all day crying. I am so tired, so lost and I don't know what to do. I don't want to be in my own house because right in my living room is her empty cage. I am so lost and the only thing keeping me going right now is my cat.
8 years of having her (she was 23 to 28 years old) wasn't enough. I love you my Gertie girl.
TLDR: I took my cat for a routine neuturing...shit went sideways and I almost lost him a week later. Full story under the cut. Some pictures of my boy as cat tax as well.
Me: Takes my cat Simon for routine cryptorchid (only one testicle descended) neutering on October 16 (Thursday). 3 incisions as they could not find the missing testicle. Testicle was found. Comes home with a cone (not on him) and pain meds. $833.93
Simon:
Initially does well after surgery
Stops eating/drinking/ambulating
Goes back to the vet Monday (Oct 20) - has a mild infection, as indicated by a fever and palpation, gets an antibiotic (not given after surgery) and better pain med. $116.85
Starts eating and drinking, gets up periodically
October 25, mom comes downstairs to do her daily check in on him, asks what is on his paw. I look and it kind of looks like strawberry yoghurt. I open his pyjamas. I find puss and blood caking the pyjamas and literally dripping from him. I rush him to the emergency vet.
Emergency vets say he is very, very sick. He either had a reaction to the sutures or just managed to catch an infection; either way, the pus built up and basically turned into an abscess and opened a new hole near his back leg.
He then needs surgery to flush him out and deal with necrotic tissue. The estimate, depending on the severity, ranges from $ 3,041.95 to $5,500. We can't afford that, I panic. The vet assures me that they have reached out to Simon's regular vet, and typically, for post-op complications, they cover a maximum of half. I go talk to dad because I still can't afford half.
I go back inside with Dad who has agreed to help. The vet tells me that Simon's vet has decided they are covering ALL of the costs.
I say goodbye, he goes for surgery at 7:40 pm. It should have taken 20 to 30 minutes. It took 2 hours. He got through okay. There was a lot of dead fatty tissue.
October 26 we go see him in the afternoon in their ICU. He looked awful but he popped his head up as I spoke and tried to turn but couldn't. We were able to turn the pee pad he was on so he could look at us (he was facing the back of the kennel). He perked up. I gave him his favourite toy, his axolotl. We stayed for about an hour until he was due for meds (he is on methadone and gabapentin.) They were then going to sedate him to clean him up as he was covered in the discharge (to be expected) and they wanted to clean him as stressfree as possible.
We return that night, he is much perkier, eating, peeing and standing. He got up, was nuzzling me, and every time I moved away, he moved closer and bit me to hold me there. I wasn't about to argue with the boy; he also tried to jump on my shoulder. We bring him his favourite blanket, which I made our dog (his best friend) cuddle. I also brought the t-shirt I wore all day.
Oct 27 (Monday), we have to pick him up at 7:30 am to take him to our vet, the emergency clinic is only open Monday to Friday, 4 pm to 8 am and then 24/7 on weekends. He had an okay night but has developed an ulcer in his eye (common after surgery as they are blinking less, not a huge concern, they are treating it). Around noon, one of the regular vet calls to check in. Simon is doing well, they're waiting on tests, and he's being treated for the eye, he will be going back to the emergency vet for the night, as they don't have anyone who stays at their clinic. There is concerns about the wound, as near the end does not look closed, but they were unsure if this was an extra drain but we will re-visit this tomorrow.
We take him back to the emergency vet at 5:30 pm; the cost for the night would be $800; thankfully, again, not billed to me.
October 28
I returned to the emergency vet at 7:30 this morning to transfer him back to our main vet. The Vet and techs all love him and say he did very well. He's eating and drinking and tolerating pain for the most part. They cleaned him up a bit more, and there is still discharge from the drain. They are also concerned that it looks like the incision is deteriorating, again leading them to believe it was a suture issue - they did send a wound after the second surgery, just in case it was something more.
And then they tell me that they are monitoring his heart murmur. His what? He did not have a murmur before the first surgery, and the vet said it developed yesterday. They believe it is from the stress and IV fluids and that they aren't overly concerned. Okay, cool...I want to get off this ride now.
Transfer to the main vet goes well. Around 10 am, our main vet, one of the owners, and our favourite one in there, calls for the update. Normally, she doesn't work on Tuesdays, but came in just for Simon and has been going back and forth with the other clinic constantly.
First, she apologised because it should not have gotten this bad, and she doesn't feel like the vet in her clinic did enough of an exam when we had him there on there on October 20. She then went into what was going on.
So, she had no idea why there was no blood work done, but she had done that and was waiting on results and would call me back when she had them. For everything going on, Simon does seem to be doing better, but she was concerned about the incision. She planned to clean it more thoroughly later and get a better look. We discussed the eye ulcer, and she was going to retest for it, as they typically heal quickly. He ate for her, did not have a fever and overall was doing well. I asked about the murmur, and she said he absolutely did not have one before, but she had some theories that she would go over when she had the blood work back. For the wound, the options are:
More surgery, she hates this option, especially as we don't know the extent yet of how the wound is breaking down.
Wait a few days, see how bad it is, with the IV he's safe and then heal it with it left open.
Around 1 pm, she calls back with the blood work. Simon is anaemic, not unexpected from the bleeding and oozing. He is stable, being active, and we decided to keep the wound open. We went to visit him after we transported him back to the emergency clinic, and he ran around before crawling into my lap and going to sleep.
Today, October 29
They have been weaning him off the medication. I transferred him back to the main vet again, and they mentioned that, depending on how he does, he MAY get to come home today.
About an hour ago, the vet called to see what I would be comfortable with, and due to his pain levels, dependent on how he does the rest of the day, he will come home tonight. For now, he will still spend his days at the main vet clinic for pain and wound management...but he gets to come home at night. She will call me again later to confirm the plan.
He has a long road ahead of him, but my boy will be home soon.
About 10 years ago, I had a root canal done on a molar, a few years ago it started cracking because they didn't do it properly and no one told me I should have had crown on it. A week and a half ago it broke in half. The good news is, with my current job, I have really good benefits and so I've finally been able to start fixing my teeth after finding a dentist that I really like.
Here's where things go sideways. Originally, I was going to go see a specialist to retreat the tooth and get a crown...and then it broke. Since there wasn't much left we decided to pull the tooth and then once healed, do an implant because again, my previous dentist sucked and I'm already short 3 molars because of it. Expensive but again, good benefits and they're happy to do a payment plan, all in all I'm looking at 6 months until this part is all done.
We had to wait a week and a half for two reasons:
1. There was an infection and I needed antibiotics, I'd had an abscess for...well a long time and the only thing that really saved me was it had no feeling because of the root canal. I also needed a bone graft.
2. I needed it to line up with my pay so I could afford the difference (my plan covers 80% of the bill with no maximum for the year, I still paid $300 today...).
So today was the day...my best friend drove me because I knew I wouldn't feel like driving and my grandmother had an appointment elsewhere that my parents needed our SUV for. I worked most of the day, went home at 2 and away we went. My appointment was at 4, by 4:30 I was in the chair (they had an emergency come in) and by 5:30, the job was done and I was given another round of antibiotics and painkillers.
Here's where the big problem happens. In Marfh 2024 I had gastric bypass surgery and because of it I can no longer have NSAIDs as they can cause ulcers and really limits what I can take. They wanted to give me torodol...sadly that is a no no. I ended up with Tylenol # 3. I only get 20 of them and only 1 every 4 to 6 hours.
Now normally I have a high pain tolerance but apparently now I'm just a big baby. I was NOT expecting the amount of pain I ended up in once the anesthetic wore off.
I am in so much pain that I have been crying off and on for 2 hours and I know tomorrow will be worse. My face is so swollen and I don't know how I'm supposed to sleep...currently sitting up helps a bit...
Anyway, I just wanted to share a downside to gastric bypass surgery because as much as it changed my life for the better, this fucking sucks and I want to throw up.
When you've have the shittiest of days and all you want is a hug from your person but you're not quite at that stage of your relationship and you accidentally ranted about your day when he asked how you were doing and you've apologized because again, you're not at that point yet so now you're terrified that you've ruined things and apologized but haven't heard from him since and now you're just wishing you didn't exist.
My name is Sarah, I've had a bad day and my anxiety is overwhelming.
Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!doctor!wife!reader
The Before | Hour Two.
[ Series Masterlist ]
Summary: Hour One: Avoidance, pain, and a harrowing feeling that it all might be falling apart.
Note: thank you for the likes, comments and reblogs on the first part🥹I appreciate you guys
Word Count: 3.1k+
Warnings: age gap, ANGST, established relationship (marriage), rough patch in a marriage, divorce mentioned, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, canon typical gore, foul language, bottled up emotions/poor communication, being a bit mean to each other as a result
not beta read !
HOUR ONE.
You arrived at the Pitt far more exhausted than usual. You blamed it on the extra hours to avoid being at home, or the nagging, aching thoughts that kept you up at night. Nights when his side of the bed had long grown cold, or on the better nights, just when he would slip in, you would slip out.
You began to fear maybe you burned too brightly too quickly and it was your time to burn out.
Your friends had told you it was due to your gap in age, the busy schedules that prevented any real conversations for days on end or that it had all happened too fast, and you had begun to think they were right.
Michael’s worst fear coming true: you beginning to regret him.
But were you?
The coffee, left on the counter as a small token that perhaps your marriage wasn’t completely over, was just a bit off — a smidge too bitter for how you usually took it. You clung to the cup anyways. Perhaps from the exhaustion, perhaps from the tiniest sliver of hope, perhaps just the heat.
He had slipped out of the house before you got out of the shower, and his avoidance was beginning to grow just as painful as your own. Despite always entering the Pitt separately, even though most of your colleagues knew you were married, you had usually always driven in together.
“Morning, sunshine,” Langdon said, opening his locker to put in his backpack.
“Awful chipper this morning,” you replied, “good morning.”
Langdon side-eyed you, “Good to see you back from nights.”
You pursed your lips, humming, “Yes. Good.”
The nightshifts had not exactly helped anything at home, but it surely had not started it. Being back on days, hard fought between, “Does it even really matter, Michael?” and “Of course it matters! We’re never even home at the same time!”, should have been a saving grace.
It truly was just a hail mary.
“You decide to take one for the team?” Langdon asked, turning to lean against the lockers, watching you.
You stuffed the remainder of your things into your locker, ‘that was the plan’, but you bit your tongue. “No, he’s here, too.”
After a month off dayshift, you figured none of your colleagues would be able to see the cracks between you and Michael forming. You had always been perfectly professional in the workplace, HR would not have it any other way considering the circumstances, but the tension lingered like a bad odor.
You just hoped that today of all days it didn’t implode.
Langdon raised his eyebrows, “Well, that’s…good?”
“He might be more…prickly than usual.” You said, closing your locker and sipping your bitter coffee.
“Yeah, Adamson. Four years, right?”
You stepped into pace with him, “Yeah, might be a hard day for a few of us.”
You hadn’t known Adamson long before he died, but COVID had hit everyone like a truck. The anniversary of his death might just be a blessing in disguise, you thought, despite how horrible that was—
“Right. Explains your…chipper attitude.”
You gave him a dry look, but figured Langdon had just done you a favor. Dana was like a hawk with how keenly she could spot a shift — any shift, in demeanor or otherwise. If Langdon had sensed something off, she would sure as hell figure it out. You let out a long sigh and tried to school your features.
Jack, night shift’s chief attending, was typing away on the computer when you approached the central hub. The charge desk felt more daunting than it ever had. Dana looked over at you, and raised a careful eyebrow — you forced a smile before glancing up at the board.
Collins leaned against the desk, her lips pulling downward. “Who left this mess?”
“Oh, we’ve seen worse.” Langdon replied from beside her.
Out of some habit, your eyes sought out your husband. He was leaning against the desk in front of Jack, either avoiding your eyes or he simply had not noticed you yet. Jack gave you a long look before his eyes flickered back to Robby. You steeled your expression and looked back up at the board.
A woman with dark blonde hair pulled back into a braid and glasses, had an eager smile as she approached the two senior attendings, bouncing on her heels. She had scrubs on and a badge, but you did not recognize her face.
Dana turned to you, “Med students today.”
You hummed, “That’s good.”
You could easily hide away from any conflict with Robby while feigning it just being because you were busy showing some students the ropes. A bitter part of you hated the fact you were already prepping to avoid him, but the whole ED did not need to be caught in the middle of you two.
And with the way he had been behaving? It was easy to guess you both would be staying out of each other’s way.
“You okay, kid? You seem a little—”
“Just tired.” You told her with a tight smile. You hated skirting around the truth with her, but it was so unfair to put her in the middle, and there was a terrible anxiety of her choosing a side. “Sleep schedule’s a bit wacky coming off nights.”
She pursed her lips and nodded, “Glad you’re back in the land of the living.”
You tried not to laugh, “Don’t let Jack hear you say that.”
She smiled coyly and turned back to her computer.
Before rounds, Robby beckoned the staff around the new faces. You clenched your teeth and kept your distance. You stuck around long enough to learn their names — second year resident Dr. Melissa King, intern Dr. Trinity Santos, MS3 Victoria Javadi and MS4 Dennis Whitaker — before taking the first case on the board.
A 38-year-old woman complaining of a severe headache and nausea was not the most exciting of the bunch, but it got you out of the central pit where you felt like everyone was watching you. You busied yourself with running the exam, checking for additional symptoms and medical history. You ordered a few tests and told her you would be right back.
You walked right into the trauma.
“Dropped down on the T tracks. Couldn’t tube him.”
“Suicide attempt?”
“Rescue. Took a spill helping an elderly woman who fell off the tracks.”
You got new gloves and focused on the woman incoming, who after seeing her degloved foot, was understandably crying in agony.
“Good vitals and no head injuries.”
“Trauma two. Let’s go!”
You followed after Robby, avoiding his eyes and focusing down on the patient. You tried to no avail to get a name, and the language she spoke was not one you recognized.
When Robby moved to assist with the male trauma, you followed the woman into trauma bay two, head down and focused. You could get through the day, and anything afterwards you would deal with as it came up.
Easier said than done.
“Fifty of fent didn’t touch her.”
“Did she faint or did she trip off the platform?”
“Nobody knows.”
Not uncommon in the Pitt — you frequently had to work with what you had, and figure it out as you went along.
Just when you thought you had it, working around Langdon and Collins, Robby walked in asking questions for the med students. You turned your back and assessed the woman’s breathing.
“Head CT. EKG and troponin.”
Garcia — a surgical resident you did not entirely like — stepped into the room. Both senior residents and Robby were now in the room, and you quickly moved to trauma one. Not to flee, no, but to ensure the man had had everything he needed.
“What we got?” You asked as you entered the room, looking over to Mohan, who brightened when she saw you.
Mohan fired off the facts quickly, while you got new gloves.
“Santos, right?” You asked, looking over at the intern in the room. “Need to intubate, that work for you?”
She nodded eagerly, and you began walking her through it.
“The cords are very anterior.”
“Yeah, that’s because we can’t flex the neck. Keep the hockey stick straight up.”
“I’m in!”
“Good job,” you told her, checking his vital signs.
You were able to work through the rest of it with relative ease, even when Garcia came into the room to assess the needs. You brought her up to speed and it was decided quickly to bring him up to CT.
Spotting Gloria out of the corner of your eye, hovering by the doors of trauma two, and you knew it was not likely to be good. It was moments like these that you knew it was good that you did not have the admin responsibilities that Robby did. The less you were around Gloria — who pushed numbers and metrics, doing nothing about the staffing shortage — the better.
“Vitals are stable. You got this, Mohan?”
She smiled at you.
“Good, let me know when he goes to CT. Page me if you need me.”
Your migraine patient was doing much better with the ketorolac you had prescribed, as well as the IV fluids. You charted a few things quickly, while asking a few clarifying questions, and making sure she was not having any symptoms of a stroke or brain bleed.
Satisfied it was just a migraine, you started her discharge with instructions to follow up with her PCP about managing possible future migraine attacks.
Eager to move on to your next patient, you were quickly interrupted by a code blue from triage. You listened to McKay carefully as she rattled off his information while rolling him into a room.
Robby seemed to be everywhere you were today, and it was still only the first half hour of your shift.
“What’s in the differential, Dr. Collins?” Robby asked, getting on gloves.
You peeked over at Collins, easy to see the pinched look of annoyance on her face. You checked his pupils while McKay checked his breathing beside you.
“Drug overdose, electrolytes, long QT—”
Otis — the patient — began to stir.
“Hey, Otis,” you greeted, moving the light from his eyes. “How’re you doing?”
“Okay?” He replied, “What happ—”
The machine beeped a flatline, and you looked over your shoulder at it. Looking back down at Otis, your mind began racing a mile a minute to determine what was likely the cause. Potassium overload? Drugs?
“V-tach again.”
“200 joules!”
You moved your hands away from the patient, glancing at Robby, curious to see what he was thinking. If this kept happening, there was no real time to wait for labs to come back.
“Charged, and clear!”
The return of a steady beat on the monitor was a welcomed sound.
“Back in sinus.” You said.
McKay stepped closer to the patient, “Otis?”
He only groaned in response, which satisfied you.
Collins echoed your sentiment, “Groaning’s good. 5 of nasal O2, CBC, CMP, troponin, and D-dimer.” She glanced at you, calling your name, “Anything else?”
You were curious why she was asking you, instead of Robby, who was now over by the cart. It stole your attention, and instead of answering her, you stepped over by your husband.
“What are you doing?” You asked.
“One gram calcium gluconate, IV push.”
“We don’t have his labs back—”
“Look at the monitor. Widened QRS and PT waves. Hyperkalemia.” He said, “Tell me you weren’t thinking it.”
You frowned, glancing at the monitor while Robby began the IV push. It was brilliant, really, risky, but brilliant. It only seemed to frustrate you more.
He was so good at medicine and so shit at marriage.
“Intense exercise caused the muscle breakdown.” You said, arriving at his conclusion.
There was a hint of a smile, “Rhabdomyolysis knocked out his kidneys. Now he’s not clearing potassium. I bet it’s over 7.5.”
Collins was next to you two then, “Wait just two minutes for the i-STAT.”
She looked over at you like you would intervene, but there was a high forming in your chest. It felt great to be good at something together again — even if it was medicine and not marriage.
“Collins, he could arrest again at any moment—” you tried.
“If it’s hypercalcemia, you could kill him.” She whispered to Robby, not sparing you another glance.
“It’s my ass, not yours.”
You moved away from them both, ignoring the way McKay was side-eyeing you. Otis was groaning again, coming to, and relief flushed through your system.
Robby was looking at you again, watching the way you moved, and you had the guilty thought of ‘why did we ever move this out of the hospital? Move it from business to pleasure? Maybe we would have been better off.’
You were quick to retreat, “QRS has narrowed. Much better.”
“Potasium is 7.7. Creatinine, 5.6.” Perlah said.
“High potassium and renal failure. Just what you thought.”
“It must be my lucky day.” Robby said, and you did not miss the way his eyes lingered on you before looking away quickly.
The tension was palpable. The high retreated just as quickly as it came, crashlanding to reality.
Collins pulled you aside just beyond the curtain.
“I don't know what's going on between you two already today, but you can’t let your marriage cloud your judgment with patients.”
Your eyebrows raised. It really was the other way around. “Collins, that’s definitely not what happened. My judgment is the same as it was when I was on days with you a month ago. You never thought to question it then.
She frowned, but relented quickly.
You gave Collins a tight smile as you moved into the hallway, curious as to what had turned her mood sour. Her and Robby’s fling was no secret to you, but it had ended before you had entered the Pitt as a third year resident. You felt zero threat when it came to Collins, not because she wasn’t beautiful or wickedly smart and undeniably kind, but because it was clearly in the past.
You moved further down the hallway when Robby stopped you.
“You okay?”
You raised an eyebrow at the loaded question.
He sighed, placing his hands on his hips, “Look, I know we haven’t worked together in a month, but let’s not make it difficult.”
You clicked your tongue as frustration swelled, “I didn’t realize it was me making things difficult.”
“That’s not what I—” His eyes scanned you before inhaling deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you weren’t okay.”
“I’m good. Peachy, really. Are you okay?”
“Can you just—“ he let out a puff of air, “Gloria’s on my ass today, so please, let’s not do this now.”
Informing HR about your relationship had been anxiety wrapped up in stress. Convincing the board that there was no conflict of interest, even with Robby being your boss, had been an uphill battle. Gloria fished for any reason to move you, or demote Robby, and your perfectly curated professionalism had ensured she never had any reason to do either of those things.
Today was just a ticking timebomb and all you did was throw a blanket over it.
“Of course. We should shelf this conversation, for what, next month? Or is that too soon?” You replied.
Robby’s expression grew hard, lips in a line of thinly veiled frustration, and frown lines like cracks in his otherwise calm ‘I’ve got this’ demeanor. His lips upticked like a challenge, “Why don’t you go help McKay in triage? You can be useful there.”
Your smile was sharp, but as breakable as glass. “You got it, Dr. Robinavitch.”
He let out an exhale like a balloon deflating, but he did not call out for you as you turned heel and headed to triage.
They say the first year of marriage is the hardest.
You just never thought it would be this hard.
Why did you have to make everything so difficult? Moving you back to days was supposed to fix everything, in that magical ‘not actually doing any work’ sort of way. The unrealistic, easy way.
It was a way to see more of each other, be able to be home at the same time, be more present in each other’s lives.
Of course it just had to fall on this particular anniversary. Just his luck, right? He wasn’t even supposed to work today, but thought, what the hell? and decided to anyways.
You only seemed to resent him for it. Perhaps this was all just a crash landing out of the honeymoon phase, and you were waking up to the reality of being with him.
It stung somewhere in his chest that his worst fears were beginning to materialize in front of him, and every time he moved to fix it, it just broke further.
So Robby did what he did best: buried himself in the work.
The Living Dead arrival, as Dana so gracefully put it, was a perfect teaching opportunity, thinly veiled over his avoidance. His only focus now was to teach good lessons and get through the twelve hours.
It was going to have to be a marathon, not a sprint.
Though his chest ached all the same, remembering the way you had scoffed and walked away from him only minutes before. He had noticed the missing silver chain that usually adorned your neck during work hours, that held your wedding ring, a way to wear it while still adhering to protocol.
Maybe you had just forgotten it. You could be forgetful when you rushed.
But maybe…just maybe it was a sign that you were throwing in the towel. Ready to commit to giving up.
It sat heavy in his heart.
So heavy that even keeping his hands busy did not seem to distract his mind in the slightest. It felt like a damn cruelty that he was unable to give all of himself to the work, or to you, and splitting it down the middle had already spelled disaster.
He felt like Sisyphus.
Everything was crashing and the wreckage was mounting. You being avoidant and rigid, gifting him a shred of hope while diagnosing a patient just to take it away, Collins challenging him at every turn, one med student taking a header, and another injuring his finger all while Gloria was riding his ass about Press Ganey scores.
The panic attack was sudden, but made a frustrating amount of sense.
Adamson. You, your marriage. The heavy weight of those he had lost. Collins. The med students. David. The chaos of the waiting room.
And all he could think about was the one person who definitely did not want to be around him right now.
It was going to be a long shift.
[ Hour Two. ]
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So, I work for a head and neck oncologist. For several years, I've had this freckle on my arm, and in the last year or two, I've noticed it's been raised, the edges weird, and every so often, it bleeds or gets flakey and tough.
Today while in the clinic, we had a free moment and I asked him to take a look. In the back room with crummy lighting he said it was probably nothing but we could do a biopsy to be safe.
Once in an exam room, he looked again and said, "Actually...that *is* something." So, as planned, he biopsied it, and from what we can tell, he got all of it, but he is 90% sure that it is squamous cell carcinoma., but it could be basal cell carcinoma too..at 34 years old. We should have the pathology back by next week.
The moral of the story is that kids: wear sunblock.
