#based on truth

[athena-children]

Athena children be like.

When they win a game: That was pure strategy. *flips hair*

When they lose a game: *scoffs* That was pure luck!

[digitalpenstroke]

DPS Story: Surgery Day

The sky was still dark when he was getting ready.  It had been quite a long time since he had to get up as early as he was, as last he checked the clock, it had shown a bright 5:50 am in its digital readout.  He was expected to be there by 6:30 am, his only blessing going out so early was that not even the construction workers were on the road yet to delay anything.  He was already outside, having said goodbye to his brother, waiting for his taxi to take him all the way to the hospital, where he would have to undergo surgery.

The ride to the hospital was long and silent.  John tried his best to speak to the driver, to stoke up some conversation, both to put his own mind at ease while keeping himself awake, but the driver had little interest to reciprocate the notion. The driver didn't want to be out on the roads this early in the morning, but in John's defense, neither did he.  

As they arrived at the front doors of the hospital, John couldn't help but marvel just how quiet it was. Not a soul was in sight, though he had no idea who to have expected to see so early in the morning.  He made his way inside and followed the helpful signs on the walls directing him to the central hub, in which other signs indicated different wards of the facility. The clock overseeing the hub indicating 6:20 am.  Nothing was open, not even the information desk, his only option was to sit nearby registration to make sure he wasn't late.  As time progressed, more people were coming into the lobby, propagating around the seating area with him.  He would guess about 10 other people arriving, not one looking like they were hospital staff.  He would assume they were also scheduled for some sort of treatment this early in the morning.

As the time rolled along, the metal curtain of the registration desk opened up. Everyone began to line up, some going so far as to inject themselves in the middle of the line as if getting registered earlier was a benefit.  Having been the very first to arrive, John was the last of now 15 people to approach the desk for admittance.

“Hi, my name is John D. Oh.  I'm here for surgery.”

The receptionist took his ID and forms, giving them a quick scan before handing his card back.  “Just follow the others, dear,” she said.  “Seems like everyone's getting themselves patched up before the first frost.”

He gave a chuckled to her and did as instructed. John looked around at the others assembled, and began to wonder if they needed the same kind of work done as he did, or if there was something more.  He wouldn't ask them, it would be rude to have, but all the same, his curiosity left him intrigued, and distracted.

All assembled were then greeted by one of the Nurses working the OR ward, one of many they would all meet at one point in their venture.  “Just follow me, and I will show you to your respective rooms,” she said.  As a unit, they followed their leader for only a few short minutes, leading them to an area with a large waiting room, and few changing rooms.  “You three, come with me, the others please wait until you are called.”  John was one of those picked and was given the last of the three changing rooms close by.

The room was small, with only a few cabinets, a table, a clock, a chair, and a medical bed before him. As he entered, he was instructed to wait until the Nurse returned for further information.  It was now 6:45 am, his body and mind were fully awake by this point, and with this awareness came an onset of anxiety.  This was the first procedure he could ever remember going through, and while friends and staff were confident of a successful operation, he couldn't help but wonder the possibilities before him, of potential and unfortunate outcomes.  He shook his head and distracted himself with what he would do once he was more mobile during his recovery.

By 6:50 am the Nurse knocked on the door and entered, with her a large, warm smile.  “Hey, how are you feeling?” she asked him.

“I'm okay, could use a nap or a bagel.”

She laughed a little.  “Well, we'll see what we can do for you when you're able to keep down solids, and in terms of a nap that will be provided during the surgery.”  John noticed she had with her a bag with some sort of cloth inside. “Inside here is the gown and shoes you'll be wearing before we get into the operating room.   Oh, and have they asked about family history, history of reactions to anaesthesia, or if you've been under medication prior to last night?”

“Quite a few times,” John said.

She only smiled and nodded, placing the bag onto the bed.  “We just need to be sure you will be fine during the operation.  We don't want anything bad to happen as much as you do.”  She took a few steps toward the door and turned back to him.  “Just place your clothes and belongings into the bag. We'll lock it up for you until you're ready for it again.  Otherwise, just get into the gown and knock on the door when you're ready.” And after a flash of a smile once more, she left the room.

As he took of each individual piece of clothing, slowly, his mind was left to wander once more.  'Was he going to be alright' was the forefront in his mind.  If he wasn't, was everyone looked after?  He could only guess they would be, having enough in his savings for things to be paid off.  And he thought of everything that would need to be paid.  Even with that certainty given, by this point he was in his boxers and shirt, John still felt nervous about the procedure.  He felt himself shake but knew he had no choice but to follow through with it at this point.  What would he say, and how would they feel, if they found out he ran away from this?  He was now dressed in the gown, his clothes were placed in the bag and onto the bed.  There was nothing more for him to do now.  He knocked on the door.  The door opened, and together with the Nurse, they proceeded to the operating room.

The hallways were chilled, despite the temperate weather outside the hospital walls.  John's skin bristled with goosebumps.  Polypropylene footwear and a cloth gown weren't the warmest garments he had ever worn.  He must have shuttered without his knowledge as the accompanying Nurse side-glanced to him and smiled.

“If you think it's cool in here, just wait 'til we get into the actual room.”

John chuckled.  “Well, it's a good thing I like Winter.”

Both patient and hospital staff shared a laugh for a moment.

“Are you nervous?” the Nurse asked.  “Even just a little bit?”

“Nah,” Jack said, keeping a hand on the knot of his gown, “this is all routine for you guys by now. I doubt I have anything to worry about with professionals at the helm.”

“We do have our best people on today, you're in great hands.”

“Ah great, that makes me feel a lot better about this.” Though in the back of his mind there was still a little uncertainty.  Not for the words he spoke, which were not lies by any measure, but rather for the unknown before him.  He would mention this to friends and family when he had recovered some, but this was the first time he had anything major done to him in his life.  He has gone to the doctor for medications and check-ups, but in terms of a major procedure, be it surgery or other such treatments, his mother could not even recall such.

When they finally made it to the room, John took a quick, though rather unnecessary look around.  The technology he had only seen in television and movies were placed strategically around the large room.  Overhead lamps and rolling carts already assembled with surgical tools were placed in certain areas of the bed where he would be laying in.  Inside the room as well were four other medical professionals, all of which had their tasks already assigned to them.  

“These lovely folks are here to assist with the surgery,” the Nurse said with a smile, motioning to other similarly dressed individuals in the room.  “They know exactly what they're doing, and will make sure that you are okay, and the operation goes well for the Doctor.”

John gave a brave smile.  “It's nice to meet you all.”

An assortment of waves and hellos were given, at least they too were friendly this early in the morning.  

“Come over here, John, and get yourself laid down on this surgical bed.”

John approached the bed.  It was small, smaller than the Twin XL mattress in his room.  Even the frame seemed to be weaker than his box spring.  But he knew that hospitals were equipped to deal with men and women of almost his stature, and it wasn't as though he were a large man by any means.  He first sat on it and was amazed just how comfortable it felt.  Without hesitating further, he swung his legs onto the bed, and the rest of him laid straight down.  As small and oddly shaped it was, it supported his entire frame rather well.  As a thought, he wondered if getting a small recliner would be better than just a bed; however, these thoughts, along with any other he had at the moment, would need to wait.

“Comfy?” another Nurse asked, a male one, with a soft voice yet muscular appearance.

“I can't argue about it actually,” John said.

This Nurse laughed.  “Half the time before the operation, some of the patients will complain about how stiff it feels or whatever, and when they do I'll just say jokingly, 'well don't worry about it too much, you'll be asleep before too long anyway'.”

This prompted a laugh and a few inquisitive statements from the other staff, and just a laugh from John.

“Well in any case,” his original Nurse said, “just lay back and relax, and let us fuss over you for the next few or so hours, how about that?”

John nodded, “I'm in your hands.”

Thus began the pre-operation ritual all but John knew about.  One Nurse would tell him that his gown would be adjusted so they had access to his upper torso, for the sensors to be placed, and so there were no obstructions for the surgery.  John nodded and agreed.  Another Nurse with a colleague approached and mentioned that they were going to attach a sensor on his finger for the heart monitor.  John nodded and agreed.  

Then another, with the Nurse he became familiar with, approached.  “So now we're gonna get ready here. The doctor is on his way, and he says we're good to go with getting you ready for sleep.  In the past, we used a gas mixed with oxygen to administer the anaesthesia, but now it is done with an IV solution. It's painless, a lot more effective.”

“Oh good, I'd like to have a pain free surgery for my first time.”

The pair chuckled, “consider it done.”

The Nurses went to work, first acquiring the IV solution and setting it up beside the surgical bed. Then it was securing both the proper vein in which to place the needle into and then inserting such needle into the arm.  John felt the tiniest sting of the needle as it was inserted, and while he wasn't aware of it, the IV began to flow seamlessly into his system.

“Alright, we're ready to go,” said his first Nurse, looking down at him and smiling.  “We're going to put a mask over you now.  It's filled with pure oxygen to help you breathe a little easier.  In no time you'll be drifting off to sleep, and before you know it you'll be awake in the recovery ward wondering where you are.  The doctor is just preparing himself and will see you when you're asleep.  From here on out, we've got you safe in our hands.”

John made one last smile.  “Well then, good night.”

“We'll see you in the morn- ah, afternoon.”

The mask was placed onto his mouth and nose.  He was instructed to breathe in and out as he had practiced before in other medical appointments.  He began to, and as he was given praise for his good work in doing so, he began making some mental observations to distract himself.  He marveled how young and cute some of the female nurses were, and yet having years of experience in their field, something that he appreciated.  He was even more curious about the male Nurse and his physique.  It was not often one would meet someone in the medical field looking like an athlete.  

Then he began to do a checklist of everything he made sure of before he left for the surgery.  It was far too late to alter anything if he had not done so, and he would not have the ability nor the time to instruct anyone else to ensure the checks were correct.  If such checks were even needed at all.  He knew this was a routine, and thus otherwise an uncomplicated operation, but being a man of contingency plans, and a past of tragedy, he didn't want to leave anything to chance.  He hoped his brother knew to check the necessary places for that plan to go through, but he could not control that.

While his anxiety about the event was fading, a brief feeling of resignation formed. If this was really how his end would come, if it came at all, then he was okay with it.  He had met some interesting people and his life and knew that he would be missed by most if not all he had known.  He knew it was silly to think like that, and knew he would wake up, he held onto that hope with a passion, but he also made sure to make peace with himself should something happen.

His breathing, meanwhile, remained at a deepened and slow pace, one adjusted that he would normally have done when going to sleep normally.  Deep breaths going into the nostrils for 5 seconds, and out through the mouth until there was nothing left.  Another observation he thought of was how strange pure oxygen smelled of.  It was very distinct, yet something he could not place specifically.  Almost a sweet aroma, a very pleasant scent.

Then something happened, something that caught him off guard.  As he tried to draw in another breath, he found that he was unable to.  He tried again to no avail.  This is it,  he thought to himself, trying to remain calm as to not alarm the Nurses.  He listened to the voices and the instruments around him, and nothing made an indication of his current predicament.  Yet as he tried once more to draw breath, he found that his body was no longer willing to do so.  And just before he could have done something to show his worry – he fell asleep.

When he woke, he did just as his Nurse predicted:  He wondered where he was.  The room he resided in was vastly different than the one he was placed in currently.  It was a lot warmer too, so he knew he was no longer in the OR ward.  He was covered in a thick, white bed sheet from his shoulders to his feet.  As his senses were coming back to him – and thankfully his breathing – he could also feel that the sheet was the only thing covering him now.  But that feeling was a low tier concern for him.  

“Good morning,” came the voice of one last Nurse he would speak to.  

“Morning,” John said quietly.

“How are you feeling?  Nauseous?  Dizzy?”

“Tired...”

“Do you want to sleep some more?  I can always come back and see how you are then.”

“Mm no...  I'm awake now.”

“Well, let's see how well you are.”

He wouldn't need to stay in the recovery room for longer than he needed to.  After a short assessment followed by a couple pieces of toast, they allowed him to call for a ride and make his way home.  When he arrived at the hospital, it was still the dark of the night, and now in the early afternoon, it was bright and sunny, if not a little cool due to the wind.  He didn't mind it though, as it was a reminder he was still around, and his contingency plan never needed to be implemented.  He smiled to himself, as he waited in the wheelchair with his Nurse for his ride.  He was glad that it was finally over, and after several weeks of proper rest, things would be back to normal for him.  He just hoped he would never have to experience that form of treatment ever again.

[mybubblesofthought]

17. Separate Paths

“I were walkin’ along a street an’ this guy was walkin’ on the path that’s about to meet mine. An’ I look at him an’ I can see he must only be a few years older than me, an’ he’s wearing this smart navy suit an’ got blonde hair with blue eyes an’ all. He starts to speed up to get ahead of me, so I do too. Suddenly we’re both competing in some fast walking race apart from it doesn’t feel like it’s about how fast we can walk. I’ve only got short legs and he weren’t tall but it wer’ easy enough for him to get ahead of me. So there he is all young, smart and good looking, cutting corners an’ crossing busy roads whilst barely checking to see if it wer’ safe. An’ there’s me, small, post-teens, not knowing what to do with me life, rushing so I won’t be late to my appointment. Round the next corner, I see a woman with a boy waiting on traffic lights to cross this busy road.  I think I’ll join ‘em ‘cause if they’ve bin waiting it won’t be long before I getta cross an’ I won’t have ta wait for the traffic lights up the road. Finally I think I’m the one whose cutting time’s corners but he doesn’t turn to cross the road with us. He continues up the pavement an’ stops at the bus stop, pulls out a cig. It’s then I realise how red and irritated the skin on his face is an’ that he’s not that perfect after all. We’re just two different people trying to make it along our own, separate paths.”

[iamtiffanyshante]

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[iamtiffanyshante]

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[saintrejectrebel]

I’m the son of rage and love

Or am I the last of the American girls?.. We do live in confusing times don’t we? Rhetorical of course. I only say this to let you in on a not so secret secret. I go by many names and just about as many labels when it comes to who/what I am. I didn’t used to subscribe to labels, but eventually if you don’t start calling yourself something it almost becomes more confusing than just leaving it alone. Not that anyone who is ‘close’ to me actually abides by my wants or needs. 

I’ve been called many things in my life (oh the high school years how fondly I don’t remember you) but what do I call myself? The closest I’ve come to understanding much of myself and giving a broad enough spectrum for basically ANYONE to understand was this:

A panromantic, gray asexual, genderqueer reject rebel mess. I don’t care what you gender me as, I’ve grown up being called one and feeling both, everything, nothing. It really doesn't matter to me. 

Friendly PSA though: Always ASK a person, it’s just polite really. 

King for a day, princess by dawn...

A (possibly) short story of my discovery? Why not?

I actually didn’t understand almost anything about myself until just two years ago. Being in my almost late 20′s that’s actually quite sad. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I was different in so many ways, possibly all the ways really, but I didn’t know there were so many others out there like me. 

In some ways I was a very early bloomer. I knew I liked boys and girls equally by the time I was 13 and had my first same sex relationship by 14. But to ever think there could be more to me? 

Let me go ahead and tell the not so secret, my gender at birth was female weather I call myself that now or not. The only reason I stopped being vague (as amusing as I was finding it) is because it makes the story so much easier to tell. 

Since then I’ve been through many more relationships with humans of different genders (and I’m sure at some point I will tell many of those stories as well) I was even married once! Of course that didn’t last long but it did happen. But the story I wish to tell at the moment is not that one. 

About two years ago I learned quite a few things I had never even heard of before but that made so much sense (at least to me). It started with a Destiel fan fiction. (Yes, I read and write fan fiction and am an insane fan of Supernatural just as I am Green Day, but that’s not what this blog is about. If you want to know about my writings of that sort you may message me and ask) One day I found myself reading a fic that mentioned something about Castiel being asexual and it was like a switch was thrown in my mind. Suddenly magical rainbows and unicorns dancing on clouds and all of that were racing through my mind! I had always just assumed something was wrong with me (granted there is plenty, but at least it wasn’t THAT)

On another day I found something that I clicked with even more, a fic featuring non binary Castiel in all their adorableness! Someone born gendered as a man but didn’t feel like either sex?! Did such a thing actually happen?! Was I really not abnormal for relating to, acting like, dressing like, and generally BEING more of a male than female?! I was amazed, truly. 

Of course being the obsessive studious and curious person that I was I had to learn as much as I possibly could, which of course (not a shocking revelation) led me here, to Tumblr! The home of the fangirls (no matter your gender) and the most out and proud website I’ve ever come across! Certain parts of Tumblr seems to be the ideal future we all wish to see. Everyone is welcome and there is no hate where there should be celebration!

Daddy’s little psycho and mommy’s little soldier...

Of course it hasn’t been all easy, not at all really. As I previously stated, most people who know me refuse to think of me in any other way but the sweet little sick GIRL with the curly blonde hair that grew up to ruin herself with crazy hair dye and piercings and tattoos... Not saying I’m not proud of all the ways I’ve decorated this ‘temple’ of course, I quite like it all on days I’m not terribly body dysmorphic. (Another problem to talk about another time I’m sure)

My mother has been quite accepting of everything I’ve ever told her. Possibly because she’s just happy I’m still alive, or possibly because the shock value somewhat wore off when my 8 year older sibling came out of the closet at the age of... 19 I want to say? Or maybe even because by the third child (especially one so much younger than the older two) is sort of the... “We give up” child. And I say that with no anger, only understanding. But Wilhelm did somewhat steal the thunder of a queer child in a religious household, even with the added bonus of having a preacher for a father. And I really can’t say much else about my father’s reactions to how and who I am. It may have been very different if I were still a teenager, but now? Doesn't really affect him past the (I’m sure) near constant headache from rolling his eyes every time I show up with a new hair color or tattoo or piercing. But at least he has one normal child, and BOY is she another story for another time! (In the future she will be called... Juliet) [And yes, that’s still keeping with the Green Day-esque flow, you just have to go WAY back for that one!]

This has most likely gone on long enough, and I’m sure you now understand why I call it “Ramblings” if you didn’t before. The more you know... Not that any of it ever makes sense. Again, I gave fair warning!

Warning, live without warning...

-Saint R

[saintrejectrebel]

Hey Little Kid,

Did you wake up late one day and you’re not so young?..

Somewhat obviously, I am a Green Day fan, not that this blog will be about them much at all. I may use quotes or art or what have you, but this blog is mostly just to rave, rant, rage, and love. I’ve been told my life has had some... Interesting stories to it, but I’ll leave that up to whomever is reading. What I write here may never be in order, just in order of what my inner demons dredged up in my mind in that day/hour/moment. I doubt much will be fabricated, but I do sometimes have a flare for the dramatic and a love of adding comedy to tragedy. I’m in my right mind in the wrong lane, speeding straight to the inevitable and sometimes ineffable. 

Calling all demons, this is the season. Next stop is therapy...

I’ve mostly started this blog to put into words some of my thoughts that I can’t seem to speak out loud. And isn’t that always the way? I may not update often, I don’t really even expect many to start following me to be honest. I’m just taking the advice of my best friend in this fucked up world and “putting pen to paper” so to speak. (From here on out I think I will refer to this person as... Wilhelm Fink, just to keep with the Green Day-esque flow) But I made a joke to Wilhelm about someday writing the next Prozac Nation and of course he ran with it. One mention of a blog to keep my thoughts together for such an idea and yet again he reassured me that yes, it was a very good idea. So here I am, in all my lack of glory, stripped bare, bleeding out memories and thoughts in a (hopefully somewhat) amusing fashion.

Here’s to the wasted, I can almost taste it. The rejects and waste of times...

Again I repeat, most of what I put here may not make sense, may not be in any kind of order. Some posts may be memories told in a dramedic (dramatic comedic) sort of way. While other posts may simply be the most random of thoughts. Having ADD makes for an interesting life when you want more than anything to write. 

All grown up and medicated, on my own cellular waves...

If you enjoy reading weird thoughts, feelings, and memories of a fucked up nature written by an ADD X Kid, with more health problems than books (and I’ve got a LOT of books) then please, enjoy. If you like scrolling through the ramblings of a reject rebel with an intense past, a fondness for Green Day, and a (somewhat) drug addled brain (all doctor prescribed I’m sure) then please do press that little follow button and laugh at my pain. Why not, I already do! 

I love a lie just like anybody else..

How did life on the wild side ever get so dull?!..

-Saint R

[mikasavela]

To celebrate spring, bought a photo zine on skating in the first decade of the 2000s. Based on Truth (2009) by Tuukka Kaila.