Still stable numbers. We are heading back down to Little Rock after coming home to sleep last night.
They’ve moved her from ICU to a private room for family to more comfortably keep vigil.

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Still stable numbers. We are heading back down to Little Rock after coming home to sleep last night.
They’ve moved her from ICU to a private room for family to more comfortably keep vigil.
Whatever It Takes was such an emotional rollercoaster of a journey, that I felt help me cope somewhat with my life at that point. Seeing my father - whom I had poor relationship with prior - deteriorate daily for three years with the cancer that ultimately spread, echoed the emotions Harry was feeling as he watched Severus' health decline each day.
The anger of the prognosis. The grief of lost time. The sadness of wishing you didn't have the relationship you did before he got sick.
Now feeling like the least you could do was push the past away so you could be there for their present. And because of the limited time they had.
Harry watching Severus fade away from him, mirrored what was happening in my life at the time. But unlike Severus, my father never carried the guilt of how he treated me growing up. There was so many words I wished that were said, but instead, I pushed it away just to deal with the grief of losing a parent and support my family during those final days.
Harry and Severus had the time to mend things, and deal with that guilt and pain of the past. And knowing Severus may eventually lose his life, made Harry even more heartbroken of losing yet another pivotal adult figure. Amongst the pain of survivors guilt after the war.
Their story - I made sure it was a beautiful journey. With all of its aches and pains, but also, a well-needed reconciliation ❤️🩹✨️
According to mortality records from the Department of Health Statistics and Information (DEIS) and official figures released in 2024 and 2025, the country recorded around 1,984 deaths by suicide over the past year, compared with 1,207 victims of completed homicides, according to the National Report on Homicide Victims compiled by the Under-Secretariat for Crime Prevention and the National Public Prosecutor’s Office.
Chile’s silent crisis: more people die by suicide than from homicides, and mental health is already having an impact on the country’s economy. Revista Tierra Bella (21th may 2026)
The Pharmacy Fund for Chronic Non-Communicable Diseases (FOFAR), one of the main programmes supporting patients with high blood pressure, diabetes and high cholesterol treated within the public healthcare system, is listed in the Ministry of Treasury's proposal for discontinuation as part of a government-led review of public spending. The measure forms part of a document drawn up by the Budget Directorate (Dipres), which identifies hundreds of state programmes subject to evaluation for the 2027 Budget. Among these are various initiatives by the Ministry of Health, including FOFAR. What is FOFAR? FOFAR funds the procurement and free provision of medicines for people with chronic conditions who are treated within the primary healthcare system. Thanks to this fund, Family Health Centres (CESFAMs) are able to maintain a supply of treatments for patients with highly prevalent conditions such as high blood pressure, type 2 diabetes mellitus and dyslipidaemia. In many municipalities, these resources have also made it possible to supplement local authority programmes providing home delivery of medicines to older people and those with reduced mobility.
Kast’s government is considering discontinuing Fofar in the 2017 budget: the programme benefits thousands of patients with chronic illnesses. Revista Tierra Bella (2nd july 2026)
El Ministerio de Hacienda solicitó al Ministerio de Salud descontinuar al menos 24 programas sanitarios de cara al presupuesto 2027, como pa
In this narrative medicine essay, a palliative care physician composes letters in her head to the mothers of aging veterans and to the physi
By: Jessi Humphreys, MD
Published: Apr 30, 2026
Sometimes, when I care for older veterans, I write a letter to their mother in my head. It goes something like this.
Dearest Mother of My Patient:
You are no longer with us, but I want you to know that I will take care of your little boy. He is 79 now, dying of a similar heart condition that captured you young. He remembers watching Bonanza with you late at night, your casually pointing out how the widowed father raised his children bravely on a ranch in Nevada. He was only 13 when you died but still sees now how you prepared him for your passing. He knows you helped his father ready himself too, and in the years that came, they became true confidants. Sometimes his father would pick him up from school and say, “Let’s go for a drive,” and they’d end up in Montreal 500 miles away. Even so, they’d sit at that Canadian café and he’d watch his father stare at the empty seat between them and know how much he missed you. Your son smiles when he tells me how in love you and his father were, the unlikely pairing of a university English teacher and a blacksmith, always holding hands and making eyes.
Your son remembers his childhood fondly. The county fair on hot days, seeing piglet races, and eating melting ice cream. During summers, he would sit with Uncle Bill at his farm on the porch, rocking in chairs as the sun set, listening to the corn growing. He can still hear the gentle crackling of the corn, in the stillness of the farm. After a full life of marketing and travel during his adulthood, nothing ever felt that quiet and peaceful to him again.
It is like this sometimes at the end, the volume turned up on childhood memories. As a palliative physician, my job is to hold stories with reverence, often from decades long past. Mostly, this is what people want to share—what it was like to catch fireflies at dusk and how their mother’s perfume smelled before she went out for the evening. Just moments, usually simple, not always easy ones. It is as though, in coming to the end of a long journey, patients are reaching around, stretching their arms to youth to hug the full circle of their lives. I have lost count of the number of graying men who remember their mother’s lullabies, closing their tearing eyes to hear the tunes as I sit beside them in silence.
Your son shares that he is not sure what comes next when he dies, but he feels that he will see you again. And this gives him peace.
His heart is tiring a little more every day. He has nowhere else to go, and no one left to speak for him if he loses the ability to speak for himself.
At the Veterans Health Administration, we have the exquisite gift of a hospice unit, a place to care for veterans when time is short. We care for the sons of mothers who can no longer be here to care for them. Here, he can joke with other veterans, cheat at bingo, snuggle the cocker spaniel who comes for pet therapy, and have ice cream with every meal if he wishes. The dedicated and skilled staff help him with art projects, prayer, or painstakingly set up 100 hours of westerns in a row on his TV. Sometimes, we even sneak him some Cheetos or Skittles.
When his heart weakens further, making every breath a struggle, we will try to take the fluid from his lungs to ease his air. And when that no longer works, we will relax his breathing with medication and stay with him as he travels back to you, his mother, wherever you may be. We will try to care for him in his final days as though he is our son. I just wanted you to know.
George has stairs up to his windowsill now to make things easier for him during palliative care. He's purring as he dozes off with a full belly having eaten more dinner in one go than he has been doing recently. He even used the scratching mat earlier for the first time in at least a week, so the steroids are definitely helping.
America's largest hospital chain has an algorithmic death panel
It’s not that conservatives aren’t sometimes right — it’s that even when they’re right, they’re highly selective about it. Take the hoary chestnut that “incentives matter,” trotted out to deny humane benefits to poor people on the grounds that “free money” makes people “workshy.”
There’s a whole body of conservative economic orthodoxy, Public Choice Theory, that concerns itself with the motives of callow, easily corrupted regulators, legislators and civil servants, and how they might be tempted to distort markets.
But the same people who obsess over our fallible public institutions are convinced that private institutions will never yield to temptation, because the fear of competition keeps temptation at bay. It’s this belief that leads the right to embrace monopolies as “efficient”: “A company’s dominance is evidence of its quality. Customers flock to it, and competitors fail to lure them away, therefore monopolies are the public’s best friend.”
But this only makes sense if you don’t understand how monopolies can prevent competitors. Think of Uber, lighting $31b of its investors’ cash on fire, losing 41 cents on every dollar it brought in, in a bid to drive out competitors and make public transit seem like a bad investment.
Or think of Big Tech, locking up whole swathes of your life inside their silos, so that changing mobile OSes means abandoning your iMessage contacts; or changing social media platforms means abandoning your friends, or blocking Google surveillance means losing your email address, or breaking up with Amazon means losing all your ebooks and audiobooks:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs
Businesspeople understand the risks of competition, which is why they seek to extinguish it. The harder it is for your customers to leave — because of a lack of competitors or because of lock-in — the worse you can treat them without risking their departure. This is the core of enshittification: a company that is neither disciplined by competition nor regulation can abuse its customers and suppliers over long timescales without losing either:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys
13/7/23 // 12.23
Study day for me today aka endless hot drinks and snacks
This story will make you believe in the good & beauty of this world... 💜🖤
In the quiet end of life care unit of a hospital in Calias, France, a former show horse named Peyo brings peace to those leaving this world & comforts those they leave behind.
They call him Doctor Peyo & science can not explain what he is able to do for the people he meets.
He softly walks the halls, unguided & stops at rooms he feels he is needed. He raises his hoof & it signals his companion that someone is in pain, someone needs love, someone is ready.
Inside, he stands beside beds where breaths are shallow & time is short. Patients instinctively reach for him.
Nurses say the room changes. Energy softens & grief exhales. Payo stays as long as needed to bring grace where medicine can not.
Since 2016, this 15 year old stallion has walked among the dying, with reverence. Always finding the ones closest to letting go.
Some say their pain is lifted when he enters. Others whisper he brings peace. Fewer tears, sometimes even laughter.
His story is not about magic, but the unseen threads that connect us. It's knowing that love does not always need a language. That sometimes the most important thing you can do is simply be there.
Peyo reminds us that healing is not always a cure but a soft reminder that you are not alone.
What a beautiful reminder of the power of presence & selfless love. (afshineemrani)
Be kind to one another. The world needs more of this love.
~beccawise7💜🖤