A whumpee being wheeled into an Emergency Room setting. Caretaker quickly traveling behind the stretcher. The whumpee, sedated yet still conscious. The whumpee sees and hears everything while being rushed down the hall.
Fast forward; the whumpee wakens in their room with a sudden jerk. The Caretaker, calm and reassuring comes to the whumpee’s aid and quietly, but sternly reassures the whumpee they are okay. However, the whumpee is in no state of mind to comprehend anything the caretaker is saying.
*sighs* I loved this ask so much I just wanted to keep it forever! Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 🥰
The commotion seemed distant and muddled to Whumpee. The pain was far off too, as though it belonged to someone else, some other poor asshole who was as good as a slab of meat on a gurney.
Their eyes were heavy but they fought to keep them open. They could hear Caretaker’s voice behind them, reassuring and ever-present. Whumpee latched ahold of the calm, familiar timbre; it was the only voice that wasn’t relaying a medical statistic or order.
Whumpee heard themself make a dull, dumb noise. The brightness of the lights and the motion of the gurney, added to Whumpee’s disorientation.
And there was something over their nose and mouth. There was a disconnect between thought and action, but their arm lifted off the gurney and found the offending plastic tubing. Caretaker chided them and pulled their arm back down to their side. They wanted to fight, but they were too weak, too tired and hurt.
“Let them work,” Caretaker admonished as they rested a warm, steady hand on Whumpee’s shoulder.
But as they were wheeled through another set of doors, the hand was gone; Caretaker was gone. Whumpee tried to look backward, tried to ask where Caretaker was, but the muffled sound they managed was not intelligible in the least. There was another hand on one of their shoulders - not Caretaker’s - and someone was telling them to stay calm and that they were going to take care of them.
No, no, no. They needed Caretaker!
They heard a three-count and they were lifted from the gurney to a table.
Please, they thought, too distressed to feel ashamed of their weakness and the knowledge they would have lowered themself to begging. They could no longer keep their eyes open; it was too much.
Everything went away.
---
It was sometime after midnight when the rate of Whumpee’s heart monitor escalated. Caretaker stood and set aside the magazine they’d been leafing through; they ignored the kink in their lower back as they crossed the distance from their seat to Whumpee’s bed.
Whumpee’s brow bunched and their head began to move slowly back and forth on the pillow as they began to mutter shapeless nothings.
“Shh,” Caretaker said. They doubted Whumpee could hear or sense them, but it was worth a try. At least they could feel like they were doing something. “It’s okay, Whumpee. Shshshshsh.”
Their mouth fell open and a choked, insensible moan escaped them and their eyes opened part way.
“Hey,” Caretaker said, with a tired smile. They’d been told not to expect too much from Whumpee.
Beep, beep, beepbeepbeep.
Whumpee’s body jolted and the deep, pained cry they let out caught in their throat. Their eyes came open and their upper body started to rise off the bed.
“Easy, Whumpee,” Caretaker kept their voice even and clear as they pressed their palms down on Whumpee’s shoulders. “You’re safe. You’re in the hospital, remember? Everything’s finee.”
Whumpee gasped and began to claw and shove at Caretaker’s forearms. The motion was unschooled, sloppy. It smarted, but it was nothing like the way Caretaker knew Whumpee could strike. With Whumpee, fight always overrode flight.
“Hey, hey,” Caretaker admonished with quiet sternness. “Whumpee, you’re safe. Listen to me. Listen”
Whumpee’s wide, unseeing eyes looked right through Caretaker as they continued to pitch and squirm.
“Nonono.You can’t,” Whumpee groaned at someone who wasn’t there. Their words were slurred, but they had a manic, ragged edge to them that caused Caretaker’s pity for them to deepen.
When Whumpee was unable to batter Caretaker away, their hands wandered up and tried for the nasal cannula.
“Huh-uh,” Caretaker said as they caught Whumpee’s determined, but uncoordinated hand and pushed it down. “That stays put.”
Whumpee tried with their other hand, but met with the same result.
“Nggh!” Whumpee let out a frustrated, ugly sound as they tossed their head back on the pillow and tried to buck out from under Caretaker’s hands. The veins in Whumpee’s neck and forehead stood out as they fought. There was anguish on their face, but no recognition. Caretaker was not sure whether to be grateful or worried that they were keeping Whumpee pinned so easily.
“C’mon, Whumpee,” Caretaker tried. Their voice remained unruffled by their frustration and concern. “Think. Just take a breath and think. I’m here. You’re safe.”
Whumpee collapsed back on the bed, panting. Their breaths were worryingly harsh, but Caretaker ceased to notice the heart monitor’s incessant beeping. Their breath caught when Whumpee began to moan the names of people who were long dead, names Caretaker hadn’t heard Whumpee so much as mention in years.
Caretaker admitted to themself that they couldn’t pull Whumpee from whatever hateful imitation of consciousness they were trapped in.
Caretaker kept hold of Whumpee’s hands with one of their own and grabbed the call button mechanism with the other. They jammed the button down before putting their hand on Whumpee’s shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay, Whumpee,” they told them, wishing they felt as certain and reasonable as they sounded. “It’s just Caretaker. There’s no one else here.”
By the time two nurses arrived - it couldn’t have been longer than several minutes - Whumpee’s energy was beginning to flag.
“They just woke up like this,” Caretaker said without taking their eyes from Whumpee, who was still muttering and struggling weakly. In the back of their mind, Caretaker was aware of how harried their voice sounded. Caretaker knew Whumpee would be humiliated if they knew of their own loss of control. “They can’t calm down.”
The nurses worked quickly. Whumpee didn’t seem to notice them as they continued to rave. At the nurses’ instruction, Caretaker continued to hold Whumpee down and talk to them. It didn’t do any good. When Whumpee’s body began to go lax and their eyes slid shut, and their pitiful whimpers fell silent, Caretaker knew it was owing to whatever substance one of the nurses put into Whumpee’s IV line.
The heart monitor’s beeping leveled out and as the nurses rearranged Whumpee’s body and smoothed the blanket back over them and double-checked the IV and cannula, Caretaker took a step back and let them do their job. When they were done, one of the nurses excused themself to take care of another responsibility; the other scratched notes on Whumpee’s chart. When the nurse’s attention turned to Caretaker, their brow furrowed and a corner of their mouth tugged sideways into an empathetic almost-smile.
Caretaker realized how stricken they must have looked. The nurse explained to them what happened in a way that was calm, practiced and unpatronizing. They thanked the nurse, but they stopped them before they exited the room.
so does anyone have this problem?
me, sees myself in undergarmts: oh im hot
me, seeing myself without underwear: oh cool I don't look bad
me, seeing myself without a sports bra/binder but with underwear: lookin handsome today,nice tits
me, sees myself without both: what the fuck disgusting human being I should die
Just thinking about that time that I tried to do karaoke in front of people and failed miserably. Currently listening to the song that I tried, and I cringed on the first line
