sometimes when chronically ill/disabled/neurodivergent people say “I can’t do this thing” they really mean “I can technically do this thing I guess, but not without pretty significant repercussions” and I really need more fully-abled people to understand the validity of that
Can we talk about growing up with chronic illness since childhood? I keep hearing those posts about people who became chronically ill in their 20's and how it changed their life (and they're valid experiences of course, they're allowed to talk about it and have their space) but I have hEDS and it's effected me my whole life, I grew up with being told "it's just growing pains" and all these different excuses and denial of my pain, I have never once felt what it was life for a full day of no pain, so it feels isolating to hear all these stories of people who used to be able to go out and have pain free lives and suddenly became chronically ill, because I didn't even get the pain-free experience, and now I'm 18 and my joints are getting more loose and dislocate more often, and I just have to live with knowing that it's only going to get worse
contents: john logan x chronically ill!reader (could be interpreted as many things, but it's mainly just me coping (notably hEDS and HSD targeted)), both physically and mentally ill reader! she's just not doing too well ☹️☹️☹️☹️, maybe a little ooc, hospital visits, chronic pain, sickness related injuries
an: this is solely to make myself feel better, because i'm not having a good body day and me and my mum binged the entire off campus season 1 last night (we're both reading the books now) as always, let me know if there's any more warnings to be added!
wc: 3.0k
warnings: reader is in pain, leg goes numb from an illness related injury, reader is mentioned to be looking bony (or just bonier than usual), reader is mentioned to be thin enough her spine in sticking out a little, a fall, a little sad, muscle relaxants (in a hospital setting), painkillers (for injury), written specifically for my hEDS!
reminder: chronically ill means it's never going away. there is no cure, but that doesn't make those with chronic illness weak. they fight every day just to function, let alone thrive the way many of us do!
summary: when you didn't want to tell logan your health was declining yet again, you ended up having a small accident with big problems following.
you were, for once, not wearing a massive hoodie. mainly due to the warmer weather at the very end of april when spring starts picking up heat, even in massachusetts, but still.
you were leaning forward to get ice from the freezer to refill your water bottle when logan's brain caught sight of your spine sticking through your skin. it was like a bucket of cold water dumped on him and then being electrically shocked in the middle of a really good dream—the last time you'd been this thin was when you'd been so ill you could barely walk up the stairs without seeing spots.
the past few weeks you'd seemed okay, better than usual even! but perhaps he'd just been convincing himself of that, seeing as you looked sick, now that he was looking hard. the slight swaying airiness to your presence, the more prominent bone structure, the scrunch between your brows when leaning down even that little bit seemed to be too much for your back, the way turning around to look at him was too slow.
"what? checking me out, logan?"
shaken out of his analytical stare and trying to laugh it off, he retorted with, "well, you're a pretty nice sight to check out, baby."
"you flatter me."
and that was it. you walked back upstairs to logan's room to study despite the horrid ache behind your eyes, and left logan downstairs to ruminate on the fact that he missed the signs.
he knew he wouldn't be able to face you without being weird just yet, so he went to the living room.
where allie and hannah both were.
fine, that's fine, he can just sit on the couch like a normal person. but he can't, not with your roommates right across from him.
"guys?"
they both looked up from their twiddling thumbs, like they're surprised he's actually acknowledging them.
"does she seem... ill? like, more than usual? i know she's incurable and it's chronic for a reason, but—"
"we were waiting for you to notice!" allie blurted it out before she could hold herself back, like she'd been wanting to get it off her chest for days. no wonder, she was good at keeping secrets that weren't hers, but that didn't mean it didn't eat at her soul.
hannah approached with a little more tact, holding allie's hand like a comfort to both of them and giving logan a sympathetic look.
"she didn't say anything to us. but..."
"but what? is she okay?"
logan's mind was racing. was she under eating again? would the love of his life be okay?
allie picked up where hannah left off, filling in the rest of what they observed, "we think so. she hasn't collapsed—to either of our knowledges, at least. but... you have to understand, she doesn't want to be seen as weak. she's wrapping her knees everyday, but her shoulder still pops and it's getting to her, and she's getting more and more irritable by the day. she's really stressed right now, logan."
of course allie would know, allie'd always been good at inferring things.
he felt his chest sink, like a bag of rocks had been thrown into the river of his heart and added some uncomfortable, jagged, heavy mass right in the centre and it wasn't going to move anytime soon, but before he could speak, there was a thud coming from upstairs.
the same upstairs where only you were, considering dean, garrett, and tucker had all been forced out of the house for some guys thing that logan had opted out of.
he was up and taking the stairs two at a time before anyone else even reacted.
"baby? what happened?"
and there you were, sprawled out on the floor like bambi, looking dizzy and annoyed while you tried to blink up at your boyfriend.
"baby, you're on the floor," he continued, gentler this time. "did you fall?"
"yes, floor, fall. i was... reaching over for my water bottle, but... vertigo. man down," you murmur, groggy in the way you always were coming back from any length of unconsciousness, "but okay! nothing feels broken. i think. my hip may have popped out, but... stand first."
of course you'd try reassure him, you didn't want any concern from someone with so much badness happening in his life already.
logan swiftly moved forward, offering you both hands as you graciously took them to help you stand, though when you tried to shift your weight onto your left side, you whimpered in pain.
oh, shit. logan knew that sound. it was the sound of someone with a dislocated joint—perhaps multiple dislocated joints—and a high pain tolerance due to years of experience.
"...logan?"
"yeah, baby?"
"my hip hurts."
"i thought so. anything else?"
"my knee."
and at that, he was grabbing his phone out from his pocket to text the groupchat while you laid back down on the floor, trying to find a position that wouldn't send sharp jolts of pain to your rapidly numbing left leg.
it took almost two hours, but the boys had managed to get you in the car with blankets and pillows stuffed around your leg to keep it comfortable along with two icepacks for the injured areas.
garrett was driving, hannah was in the passenger seat, you and logan in the back while allie, dean, and tucker were going to meet you at the hospital once you got there.
with your face smushed into logan's stomach, you were nodding or shaking your head while he asked you questions to distract from the pain.
dislocations weren't uncommon for you, but usually it was your shoulder and you could pop that back in no problem and go see your pre-med friend the next day to double check everything. double dislocations always called for the hospital, especially on the same limb.
logan was in the middle of asking something about your major when there was a speed bump, which jolted your leg and made you cry out in pain, fists clenching white-knuckled in his hoodie while he shushed you and wiped away your tears.
"i know, baby, it hurts, but we're ten minutes away. think you can hold on for that long, sweetheart?"
oh, sweetheart? he only ever called you sweetheart when he knew you were upset or in serious pain, so you must have been crying more than you thought.
"i'm okay. i'm okay. it just hurts."
you were trying to convince yourself just as much as him, for the pain was almost more than you could take. the sharp yet throbbing ache in your hip was doubled in your swollen knee, the kneecap obviously having slid out of place. well, slid was a gentle word for it. slammed felt more accurate.
and with everything going on inside your body you didn't register hannah quietly asking if music might help, for she'd never been one of those helping you in this situation—or any major "pain" situation of yours, since there'd been many in the time you'd been at briar. and since you don't register it, john leaned down and whispered the question into your ear.
"baby, you want music? would that help?"
you nodded helplessly, keeping your eyes squeezed shut and listening to the faint sound of a heartbeat—yours or logan's, you didn't care to know but it was in your ears and it was comforting.
he gave hannah a small thumbs up before returning his hand to run up and down your side while the other held your head stable.
the first song on hannah's shuffle playlist was doors by noah kahan—which she hurriedly skipped when logan gave her a slightly panicked shake of his head, leading you to let out a teary, tired giggle.
"it's fine, i like that song."
"yeah, baby, i know, but you cry when you listen to it and i don't want you in any more pain than you have to be. what do you want to listen to, clairo?"
"mm. sure, clairo."
the waiting room in the emergency department had never been a pleasant place—though it was getting slightly more tolerable over the years—and it would probably never be.
the only positive thing was your worried, hovering boyfriend ordering his friends to go get food while he tried to distract you.
"you wanna know something?"
you hummed in agreement, eyes still squeezed shut to combat the uncomfortable numb sensation in your leg.
"first time i saw you—"
"you've told me this story, john."
"what, about the first time i saw you? because i could swear i've only ever told you what i thought the first time i met you, which is a completely different story. be patient and you'll learn the difference."
"fine. tell me, what happened the first time you saw me?"
he adjusted, sighing and shifting further down in his seat while his eyes stayed trained on the wall in front of him instead of yours, just barely peering up from where your head lay in his lap.
"the first time i saw you, i thought, 'wow, she's clumsy,' because you fell over and kept falling over trying to get up again. i was too far away to rush over"—even though he definitely tried to, but he kept that part to himself—"and allie was already by the scene of the crime. it was the spring before we started dating, so it was a while ago actually. now, i know you had probably popped something out of place and couldn't get it back in, but that was why i used to call you bambi." a pause, and then logan—as per usual—tried to lighten the mood again. "until, of course, i remembered bambi's mother got shot by hunters and i'm not really wishing death upon many people right now, so, you know."
a weak laugh escaped you, and logan finally looked down. when he saw the way your brow furrowed and your lashes pinched together, he gave your hand a little squeeze and kept telling stories.
stories of what he was thinking on your first date, stories of the (many) times he first tried to go up to you to ask you out but was ultimately too scared of allie and later learned she was only being protective because you had just been through a breakup, stories of jules and him when they were little, stories of when you first started becoming a regular at the hockey house and how the atmosphere became just a little more light and a little more gentle.
"you remember the first time you brought cookies for us?"
you nodded, eyes fluttering closed once more as a sharp jolt of pain went through your leg. "yeah, it was the day after we first had sex. i didn't want it to be awkward in case they had heard us, so i brought a peace offering."
"i don't know if anyone told you, but tucker cried." when you tried to protest and start apologising, john just laughed and continued telling the story. "no, not because he felt weird about it. he loved them. he really appreciated that you remembered all his cooking stuff, and that you wrote a sweet little note. and also, he's just a big softie so he got really emotional. he appreciates you, we all do."
"mutual, it's mutual."
"well, i'm glad. i don't know how i'd be right now if i hadn't saw you fall over and then decide immediately, 'she's the girl for me'."
john held your hand through the muscle relaxant and painkillers that he knew you hated because it felt like you weren't in control of your body. he held your hand through the relocations of your (very swollen) kneecap and hip. he held your hand through the usual talk from the doctors telling you how to wrap it and do aftercare for it (which you definitely did not laugh at the word 'aftercare'). he held your hand through the nerves, the nausea, the numbness, and the nuisance that was chronic illness, and he would do so for as long as he was able-bodied and of sound mind.
in the hospital room just before you got discharged, john had gone to talk to garrett, dean, and tucker outside while you stayed inside and leaned your head on allie's shoulder with hannah's arm around you. you could feel the weight of sadness crushing your lungs, but you managed to have enough air to keep breathing, just none left for words. you felt the shame in your throat rising, shame from letting yourself get bad again, shame from not telling john, shame from handling it so badly, and all that shame was making you tired.
"hey," allie spoke up, rubbing your shoulder, "do you want logan in here?"
you starting nodded on instinct, then stopped yourself, hesitated, and shook your head. "no, not yet. i just want to get in the car and sleep. no heavy conversations tonight."
allie nodded once slowly, not trying to convince you or push you to talk it out just yet, and hannah stood up to go give the boys the update on how you were feeling.
outside, john was sat down in a chair with his head leaned back and resting on the wall, garrett was stood up and looking down at logan, dean was also sat down but his legs were stretched out comically far, and tucker was standing with a little frown of worry.
as hannah came into john's view, he perked up causing garrett to also turn and see her.
"she said she's tired, she doesn't want to talk about much of anything. just get home, eat, sleep."
hannah then turned to logan, adding quietly, "she also doesn't have the energy to talk through why she didn't tell you she was in a flareup earlier. she just wants to rest."
john nodded, hesitated, then asked quietly, "does she even want to be in the car with me? i understand if not—space and everything—but i just want to be there for her."
hannah almost shook her head before reluctantly blowing out a breath and nodding. "i can ask."
"yeah, please do. it'd mean a lot to me."
john's sincerity was the only thing stopping hannah from hesitating as she walked back into the room, cringing, and asked, "would you mind being in the same car as him? he said he just wants to be there for you, and i don't think he'll breach the topic until you're rested."
you groggily nodded your head, sighing and agreeing. "sure, sure. i just don't want to talk about it."
"got it."
all you could remember of the car ride home was awkwardness and tension bleeding through the fuzzy edges of your fatigue until you fell asleep on logan's shoulder.
you didn't know until later, but logan had carried you inside bridal style and laid you down in his room with a hot water bottle he'd ordered dean to get.
when you awoke, there was a makeshift flareup cart by logan's bedside and the sound of quiet chatter downstairs. in the cart there was a charger, the book you were currently reading, your journal from your backpack as well as your pencil case, headphones, painkillers, instant heat and cold packs, snacks, water, compression braces, a hair brush (that had most likely been allie's doing), an extra blanket, and a few other things you weren't bothered to take in yet.
while you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you tried to hone in on who might still be here, but you couldn't quite seem to identify who exactly was still hanging around downstairs. so, you grabbed your crutches and started out to the top part of the stairs.
"guys?" your voice was croaky and a little sore from the lack of use, but john heard you just fine.
before you could even attempt going down the stairs with crutches (a very bad idea), your boyfriend was at the bottom of them looking up at you.
"baby? how you feeling?"
"like i'm in the gravity of jupiter. my body feels heavy."
his wide eyes somehow got even bigger with the sadness in his heart at seeing you in such a pained state, and then he was up the stairs and hugging you.
he kissed the top of your head, staying there and mumbling into your hair, "you want me to carry you down?"
you shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed at seeing that everyone had in fact stayed around to wait for you to wake from your nap and now they were all pretending not to look at you and logan. "no, i'm sure i can figure out a way—"
"no, no way. i'm not risking you getting even more hurt when you literally just had two full dislocations and were too stubborn to stay in the hospital overnight so the doctors could keep an eye on the state of your joints. i'll carry you."
so, with flushed cheeks and crutches held in your free arm, logan carried you downstairs to the couch where the smell of tucker's cooking drifted over to you, logan, allie, garrett, hannah, dean, and all of their various reactions to you being down.
"guys, stop looking at me like that. i'm fine, it's bound to happen when i have what i have." but the concerned glances from allie and garrett weren't easing, so you deflected. "what were we talking about?"
silence.
"...oooookay, tv? anyone?"
and slowly, everyone started getting back into the flow of normalcy. hannah cuddled you while logan helped tucker to bring food over, dean made a dirty joke that allie cackled at and garrett sighed with exasperation over.
normal. normal felt nice. normal felt really nice when your favourite movie was playing and john was sitting with you while you ate the best soup you'd had in a while.
maybe your normal didn't have to be the same as everyone else's. maybe your normal was having a double dislocation, faulty joints, and all the love in the world you'd ever need from the people around you.
maybe that was better than other normals.
likes, comments, reblogs, feedback all appreciated!
my mom just got mad at me because "i have to rest every time i do the littlest thing even eat" is almost like youre chronically fatigued when you have chronic fatigue
