#medication tw

[tfpdaily]

🦈 Daily Megatron 12

I’ve been having the most ridiculous headache ever today

[knightoflove]

Self shippers who have to deal with a lot of aches and pain, whether it’s because you have chronic pain or have a physically demanding job.

Your f/o doesn’t mind helping you. They love you, so of course they’ll help with anything

💛 Cooking your meals

🧡 Running you a hot shower/bath and helping you wash up

💛 Massaging any sore spots

🧡 Applying salonpas and getting you comfy with your heat pad

💛 Keeping track of all your pain medications

They’ll never judge how many chores you can or can’t do, or if you can’t do any chores at all. They adore you, all of you <3

[hidefdoritos]

Sometimes you just gotta make do with what's accessible to you.

I have to take meds first thing in the morning. If I don't eat food first, I'll be too nauseous to function. So I (sleepy and unmedicated) need to complete the tasks of feeding myself (triggering) and swallowing pills (complicated) at around 6:30 am (inhumane).

My daily breakfast is a Clif bar and an applesauce pouch. Sometimes also a Poptart (for morale).

Yes those have single-use plastics and foil pouches and aren't recyclable where I live. But right now they're accessible. Feeding myself independently, cheaply, without dishes, without triggering myself, so that meds get taken, is more important.

For anything else, I (sleepy and unmedicated) would have to venture into the shared kitchen (scary) and wrangle refrigeration, reheating, pans, and dishes (complicated) while remembering the meds (hard). Keeping easy food in my room next to the meds eliminates all of that.

So relax. Choose sustainability in every way you can, but accept imperfections. You don't have to crawl a thousand miles repenting on your knees etc. etc. Remember corporate greed is the worst polluter. Your personal needs are important. It's okay to make do with what you can, with what you have, where you are.

[genderqueerpositivity]

The Biden administration on Friday proposed tighter limits on the online prescription of some medications, including the attention deficit h

The Biden administration on Friday proposed tighter limits on the online prescription of some medications, including the attention deficit hyperactivity disorder drug Adderall and highly addictive opioids such as oxycodone, a partial reversal of policy changes made during the coronavirus pandemic.

The new regulations, which would require health care providers to have at least one in-person visit with patients before prescribing or refilling certain drugs, would take effect after the public health emergency for Covid ends on May 11, the Drug Enforcement Administration said in a statement.

The proposal will undergo a 30-day period of public comment, after which the D.E.A. will issue a final rule, the agency said.

Heads up: If you started testosterone (a schedule III controlled substance) via telehealth during the pandemic and you've never seen your provider in person, the Biden administration is probably going to fuck you over later this year.

Go to the link below for more info:

There is a link at the bottom you can follow to submit a comment on the proposal (but at this time the link doesn't appear to be working, for me at least).

Edit to update:

It has been pointed out to me that the MSN article above misrepresents the DEA proposal on telehealth regulations; the proposal is NOT a ban.

Please check out the most recent reblog of this post and the link below for clarification on the proposal:

As COVID-19 Emergency Waivers End, DEA Proposes to Expand Tele-Prescribing of Controlled Substances

On February 24, 2023, the federal Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA)&amp;nbsp;issued&amp;nbsp;a pair of proposed rules to make permanent

[fortitudina]

*OOC. ------ I officially got my diagnosis after the assessment: I do indeed have fibromyalgia! The assessment used a scoring scale, and my scores were double the threshold needed to confirm a diagnosis. So, I now have answers to the full body, millions of needles, burning fire pain, along with the crashing/passing out after a few hours awake. Hopefully, my medication will get me back to a semblance of previous normalcy, and I'll be able to be human again and clean, and be able to focus on writing.

[ci-tr-in-e]

PSA to all of the kiddos who are on SSRIs: Summer is here! Make sure you hydrate and stay cool as the temperature starts to rise- being on SSRIs is known to make some of us overheat/experience heat intolerance. 🏖️✨ But don’t let that stop you from all the Summer activities; drink water and have fun!!

P.S. Don’t forget your sunscreen! 🏝️

[sonorance]

he holds my meds at the moment

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

Trust

I didn't forget my stories! Promise!

CWs: bbu, recovery, medication, past drugging, ocd, panic attacks

Masterlist

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They gave Jesse pills. Bree referred him to a doctor who asked him a lot of questions he surely did not answer correctly, and now he has pills. They're supposed to help him “feel better”.

Where has he heard that one before?

Jesse could only stare at the orange pill bottle in his hands, willing himself to open it, to be a good pet and to listen to his orders. But he knows what “feel better” means. It means having no control, it means a clouded head and panicked heart. Is that how the other rescues are so calm here? They take pills?

He popped the lid off, peering into the bottle. Sixty small, white pills.

They look just like hers.

He closed the lid and set the bottle on the bedside table with quick hands, as if it could burn him. It might as well. He twists his collar.

-----------------------------------

“I hear you've been prescribed something to help you,” Bree said. Jesse sat on the couch across from her, fixated on the clock in the corner, counting the seconds as they ticked by. 

One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four. One…

“Mmhmm.”

“Mmhmm? That's all?”

Jesse tore his gaze away from the clock. Bree wore an expression of expectancy. “What?”

She smiled. “Do you think they're helping?”

He nodded immediately, heart twisting with the lie. He liked Bree, he didn't want to lie to her. She's not the one who gave him the pills, it was the other doctor. He inhaled slowly. “It's just, um. I guess I just don't know why.”

“Why what?”

Jesse couldn't stop the tears that sprung in his eyes. “Why I need them. I was being good - I thought I was being good. And I don't - I don't want to feel that way, I don't-”

“Woah, woah. Jesse.” Bree raised her hands to stop him. He twisted his collar around his neck, ignoring her wince. “Okay. Take a breath. Why do you think you're not being good?”

He obeyed, breathing through his constricting throat. “They gave me pills.”

“And that's bad?”

He nodded. “I know how they feel.”

Bree's eyes widened in understanding. “The Bakemans made you take pills?”

His eyes wandered, finding the clock once more. “She did,” he whispered.

Through the corner of his eye, he could see Bree nod. She did not know everything about what happened in that house, especially not what Mrs. Bakeman did to him. He thought she suspected a lot. But, either way, she knew enough. She knew they hurt him, Mr. and Mrs. Bakeman both. He dreaded the day he had to tell her specifics.

“Jesse.” He turned to her. Bree leaned forward in her seat.  “These are not the same. Not at all. Remember what we talked about? Anxiety, OCD?” 

Jesse nodded. Yes. He remembered, of course he remembered. The relief he felt when Bree told him he wasn't the only person on earth who felt the way he did was so palpable. It didn't stop it., but putting a name to what was wrong with him was comforting in a way he couldn’t describe. 

“The medicine is to manage them. To take away some of this panic you feel, minimize your compulsions.”

He shook his head. “I hate not being able to think.”

“I promise you, these will not make you feel that way. And if they do, you tell Doctor Ashley and she will adjust them or give you different ones.”

That was something that happened in Cooper's house. Telling someone if you didn't like something and it… stopping. It was so novel to Jesse, no matter how many times he witnessed it firsthand.

The first time he saw it, he was in the living room on the couch with Miranda and Dawson, watching a movie. Contessa came in, started playing with Miranda's hair as she stood behind them on the couch and chatted about this new salon she wanted to try. Miranda made a face and asked Contessa to stop touching her. Those words alone made Jesse's heart start to pound. He waited with bated breath to hear a slap or a shout. None came. Contessa simply dropped her hands with a quick apology and kept talking. Jesse and Dawson shared a look of pure shock before going back to the movie. It was one of the only times he'd ever interacted with Dawson, the entire moment so stunning was seared into his memory.

He held onto that moment when he looked back to Bree. “Okay.” He whispered. “I'll - I'll try.”

-----------------------------------

But that evening Jesse found himself finding any excuse to not go back to his room and face the bottle on his bedside table. All sixty pills were taunting him in his mind, promising pain and suffering. He had no idea what they were. Bree didn't give them to him, Doctor Ashley did. She could've given him anything, she could've lied.

Jesse helped clean up after dinner, he listened to Miranda and Gwen debate what movie to watch and sat through the romantic comedy they chose with them. The only time he was briefly able to take his mind off his worries was when Gwen laughed at the screen, the sound lightening him every time he heard it.

But soon the movie was over, and Gwen and Miranda went to their room with a quick goodnight. Jesse couldn't sit on the couch and stew in his fears any longer. He had to move, but the mere thought of having to choke down those pills and have no control over himself was enough to make him panic.

It was making him panic. His breaths came quick, his heart pounded jack-rabbit fast in his chest. Jesse's hands shook. Oh no. No no no no. The corners of his mouth tugged down, tears filled his eyes.

Before he knew it he was standing and stumbling through the dark house to the sliding door in the back. He leaned against the railing on the back porch, gasping in the cool night air. He crouched down, resting his head against the metal. Jesse's eyes squeezed shut, trapping the tears. He would not cry. He just needed to breathe. Breathe. Breathe dammit!

Jesse gulped down lungful after lungful, counting each one in groups of four until finally the moment passed. He stared at the moonlight reflecting on the grassy backyard and slowly stood up on trembling legs.

A panic attack. Bree told him what they were, why he felt like he was going to die when they happened. They're not tantrums, like he was told in training. Bree frowned when he told her that.

The medication would help with the panic attacks. He swallowed, mouth dry. It would be nice to not feel them anymore. To not feel them ever.

The door slid open behind him. Jesse turned with an apology on the tip of his tongue before he saw it was only Auggie. He slid the door closed with an apologetic expression.

“Can I join you?” he asked. Jesse nodded, turning around. Auggie leaned next to him, taking a lighter and cigarette from his pocket. “You mind?” Jesse shook his head.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Auggie smiled sheepishly, taking a drag and breathing it into the night. “It’s kind of a new thing. And they’re kind of Contessa’s. I take one from her every night.”

Jesse’s eyebrows jumped up. “You steal them?”

Auggie shrugged. “I don’t think she minds.”

The breeze changed direction for a moment, allowing Jesse to smell the smoke as Auggie exhaled. He tensed, turning his head away from the memories, waiting the the breeze to take it away from him again.

“Do you take medication?” Jesse blushed as he realized, too late, how personal of a question it is. He opened his mouth to take it back, or assure Auggie he didn’t have to answer, but he did.

Auggie nodded, as if it didn’t phase him at all to divulge this information. “Yeah.”

“What do you take?” There was no way Auggie needed the same medication he did. Auggie was quiet, yes, but he seemed to hold himself together in a way Jesse couldn’t. He didn’t panic. Jesse never saw him cry. He was better than Jesse.

“I take antidepressants.”

Jesse tried to cover his shock with a nod. He had to quickly change his mental perception of Auggie, had to equate the agreeable, fun young man he was getting to know with someone who hated living their life. It didn’t compute.

“Do they help?” Jesse asked.

Auggie nodded, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Yeah. They really do.”

Jesse swallowed, thinking once again of the pill bottle in his bedroom. “Did Ashley give them to you?”

“Mmhmm.” Jesse fell silent. Auggie put out his cigarette on the metal porch railing. Jesse’s scars twinged. “I know you’re still skeptical of this place,” Auggie said. “Everyone really does just want to help us. It’s weird. But it’s real.”

Auggie didn’t wear his collar anymore. Jesse was the only one. The only one not strong enough, the only one who still didn’t trust anybody. It was so exhausting.

“Goodnight, Jesse.” The door slid open and closed behind him.

Jesse forced himself inside, locking the sliding door behind himself before going to check the front door was locked as well. Fifteen minutes later he found himself in his bedroom, pill bottle in his hand.

Don’t think about it. You’re in your room. The door is locked. No one can hurt you. If they’re bad, don’t take them again. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think. Don’t think.

He swallowed the white pill in his hand before he could stop himself and let out a dry sob. Jesse pressed his hand against his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, the tears finally falling free. He fell in bed with the lights on, waiting for his mind to cloud.

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Taglist: @mylifeisonthebookshelf@hold-him-down@winedark-whump@melancholy-in-the-morning@castielamigos-whump-side-blog@cyborg0109