The lips of the bottle are cold against Dean’s own. He likes it that way—the ice before the bitter taste and heat. His mouth the gateway between tangible and fantasy where he can pinpoint the spaces to untangle and let go.
It’s a game: Drink. Sink deeper into the motel pillows. Drink again.
It should make Dean’s skin feel less real. It should curb the way his eyes feel dry and heavy. Should lull him into a sense of heady nothingness. But Dean’s stomach churns against the liquid and the mattress is too hard.
“God,” he says, his chest struggling under an unseen weight. It isn’t a prayer or a curse. Instead, it’s a word to try and incinerate the nerves already sparking inside him. Finish the job.
But it isn’t God that answers. It’s Cas, standing like a wall. Strong. Fierce. Not like Dean, who tries to turn away from the angel the moment he appears inside the motel room. It’s Dean who can’t even bring himself to act like he’s ok. He only has enough reserves left now to hide. Only has the strength to close his eyes against the light with force.
And he shivers when Cas’s hand falls on the skin of his arm, holding it tightly.
Dean wonders if Cas can feel his blood move beneath his skin. Wonders if Cas sees any life left in the shell of Dean’s body.
“Dean,” Cas says, and it’s worry. It’s pain. It’s recognition that Dean exists, even if the hunter doesn’t want to be real right now.
Dean wants to look at Cas. He knows the angel has always seen him. And he knows Cas’s soul has spoken to him, too. If only the words could translate. Because maybe Cas could say what Dean needs to hear. Could fill up the empty room with words neither of them ever learned. Words like “hope,” and “safe.”
And Cas’s hand waits. Waits for Dean to allow it.
It takes a long time. It’s reluctant. It’s a fist that sprouts from a tight wad, blooming like a reluctant flower to slowly, lightly touch Cas’s skin back with his own. To give the angel the ok.
It’s brief. It’s shaky. It’s enough.
Dean feels Cas’s heat against his back as the angel lays down behind him. And Cas talks through his fingers, saying the things his mouth can’t. He tells stories with their skin, letting his palms run along Dean’s back and chest and arms. Anywhere he can find to spread his heat like balm.
Then it’s the angel’s mouth against his neck, breathing home into Dean’s spine and hair while Cas’s palm rests lightly on Dean’s stomach, skirting under the hunter’s shirt.
And when he finally feels Cas’s mouth on his back, small kisses through the fabric, the hunter wonders at the need for words at all. Because it isn’t desire, it’s worship. It’s Cas telling him he’s glad Dean’s alive. Glad he’s here.
Dean swallows. He flips onto his back, giving Cas further purchase on his skin. But Cas’s hands have stopped, and part of Dean wants to open his eyes. To see if Cas has left him here to the silence. But he can’t bring his eyes to face the emptiness. And as his skin starts to cool in the wait, he suddenly can’t breathe, Dean’s lungs jolting and shaking while he cuts off his own air supply.
Cas, Dean prays. Cas, touch me. Talk to me.
But the hands don’t return. Instead, Dean is startled when he feels a heavy weight on his chest, right against his heart. He can feel through his shirt where Cas’s ear is pushed up against his skin. Can feel Cas’s tiny breaths of admiration as the angel inhales at the sensation of each heart beat.
The burn inside Dean’s stomach starts to subside and his hand makes his way into Cas’s hair, resting his fingers in between patches of it. Neither of them move except to breathe. Dean doesn’t open his eyes. No one speaks.
But Dean can hear Cas anyway, telling him all the things he needs to fill the silence. And suddenly maybe, just maybe, Dean thinks he might know what hope feels like.
OBGYN: Yeah, you are exhibiting all the signs of Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I’m so sorry.
Me: Huh? Oh, yeah. Insulin resistance, impossible weight loss, pre-disposition to type II diabetes, painful AF periods. Likelihood of bleed outs. Crap. That blows.
OBGYN: Yeah, well that too.
Me: *blinks* What?
OBGYN: Well, PCOS makes it very difficult for a woman to conceive and carry.
Me: BWHAHAHAHA. Yeah. No. No babies. Ever. Never wanted them. At all. Maternal instinct is not strong with this one. Only upside today.
OBGYN: Well then. Not exactly problem solved, but we’ll run with it.
Me: So about the MIND-SEARING PAIN and occasional HEAVY AF BLEEDING. When can we deal with that.
OBGYN: Not until you are 35.
Me: Dah fuq?
OBGYN: Not my rules. Hospitalization won’t even consider any treatment unless it’s life or death until you’re 35.
Me: Why?
OBGYN: Because you might want to have a baby.
Me: I’m 31. I didn’t want kids when I was 11, I didn’t want them at 21, and I sure as shit don’t want them now. Can’t I just sign a form that says “I don’t ever want a baby take it out, take it out now”?
OBGYN: Nope.
Me: Why?
OBGYN: Government rules. No removal of baby making parts before 35 unless your life is in immediate jeopardy.
TL;DR: The government knows better about your baby making parts than you do.
This is just evil. They are literally refusing to treat a potentially life-threatening condition, not just without the patient’s consent but despite the patient’s protest. Evil.
According to the National Women’s Health Network, there’s no legal age restriction- “Technically, any woman of legal age can consent to the procedure, but it should be medically justified. It’s incredibly unlikely that a doctor will perform a hysterectomy on women ages 18-35 unless it is absolutely necessary for their well-being and no other options will suffice.” Of course, this is in the US. Other countries may have different rules.
If you’re in the US and your OBGYN says “government says no,” look for a new one because they lied to you. If your OBGYN says that “hospital says no,” look for a new one because this one doesn’t respect your bodily autonomy. It is true that most surgeons don’t like to perform hysterectomies until you’re in your late 30s at the earliest, but a respectful surgeon will listen to their patient and not just write them off. Sexism in hospitals is alive and well– and it’s not just anecdotal evidence. There’s been a history of looking at it academically/professionally since the 70s (look into Mary Halas as a good place to start if you’re curious), and it crops up all the time in articles in the Journal of Women’s Health and Women’s Health Issues, and the International Journal of Women’s Health all of which are peer-reviewed, well-respected medical journals. It’s absolutely a real thing.
Anyways, I guess what I’m getting at is this: here’s a list of doctors (mostly US-centric) who perform different sterilization surgeries without giving their patients trouble. While even a surgeon on this list might caution anyone under 35 away from a hysterectomy, at the end of the day it’s yourbody and your pain. (And some of the docs here have been known to perform hysterectomies on people in their 20s with no fuss.) While this list won’t be practical for everyone- after all, medical treatment is ridiculously expensive in this country, it might help someone.
Holy shit fam Holy S H I T
SIGN ME THE FUCK UP I’VE BEEN TOLD THIS IS NOT ALLOWED FOR YEARS
Oh god
I was told not until I was 30.
Shit, son.
Addendum: it’s not just that doctors don’t want to or don’t recommend hysterectomys on patients less than 35 years old. It’s also that HEALTH INSURANCE won’t cover the procedure below that age. This is a surgery that can easily cost over eight grand.
Note: hysterectomy almost always only concerns removal of the uterus. In PCOS, the uterus is NOT the problem, it’s the ovaries. The procedure you DO want is an ovariectomy/oopharectomy, which is removal of the ovary. Removal of the entire system is known as a hysterectomy and salpingo-oopharectomy which means the uterus, ovary(ies) and fallopian tubes are removed.
@closet-keys , this doctor list is worth looking into
Re: ovary removal- taking the uterus would be a good stop-gap, yes? Because the heavy as fuck bleeding would stop, and my understanding is that you really don’t want to go through menopause in your thirties. I mean, HRT is an option, but from an ethical and side effects standpoint, I would personally be against it.
Lol yeah I can’t remember exactly what the timescales were but I think it was like 2 weeks or something? It is noticeably really short considering the “too damn long” line.
But yeah this also happened in reverse in like a day so 😉
Many of us are one accident, one layoff, one business closing, one financial emergency away from being broke and losing everything. Keep that in mind the next time you get on your high horse about those in poverty needing a helping hand.
my god but I get mad when someone flippantly dismisses important scientific progress because you can make it sound dumb by framing it the right way.
For a start, of course a lot of science sounds dumb. Science is all in the slogging through the minutiae, the failures, the tedious process of filling in the blank spaces on the map because it ain’t ’t glamorous, but if someone doesn’t do it, no one gets to know for sure what’s there.
Someone’s gotta spend their career measuring fly genitalia under a microscope. Frankly, I’m grateful to the person who is tackling that tedium, because if they didn’t, I might have to, and I don’t wanna.
But let’s talk about why we should care about this particular science and spend money on it. (And I’ll even answer without even glancing at the article.)
Off the top of my head?
-advances in robotics
-advances in miniature robotics
-advances in flight technology
-advantages in simulating and understanding the mechanics and programming of small intelligences
-ability to grow crops in places uninhabitable by insects (space? cold/hot? places where honeybees are non-native and detrimental to the ecosystem?)
-ability to improve productivity density of crops and feed more people
-less strain on bees, who do poorly when forced to pollinate monocultures of low nutrition plants
-ability to run tightly controlled experiments on pollination, on the effects of bees on plant physiology, on ecosystem dynamics, etc
-fucking robot bees, my friend
-hahaha think how confused those flowers must be
Also worth keeping in mind? People love, love, love framing science in condescending and silly sounding terms as an excuse to cut funding to vital programs. *Especially* if it’s also associated with something (gasp) ‘inappropriate’, like sex or ladyparts. This is why research for a lot of women’s issues, lgbtq+ issues, minorities’ issues, and vulnerable groups in general’s issues tends to lag so far behind the times. This is why some groups are pushing so hard to cut funding for climate change research these days.
Anything that’s acquired governmental funding has been through and intensely competitive, months-to-years long screening by EXPERTS IN THE FIELD who have a very good idea what research is likely to be most beneficial to that field and fill a needed gap.
Trust me. The paperwork haunts my nightmares.
So, we had a joke in my lab: “Nice work, college boy.” It was the phrase for any project that you could spend years and years working on and end up with results that could be summed up on a single, pretty slide with an apparently obvious graph. The phrase was taken from something a grower said at a talk my advisor gave as a graduate student: “So you proved that plants grow better when they’re watered? Nice work, college boy.”
But like, the thing is? There’s always more details than that. And a lot of times it’s important that somebody questions our assumptions.
A labmate of mine doing very similar research demonstrated that our assumptions about the effect of water stress on plant fitness have been wrong for years because *nobody had thought to separate out the different WAYS a plant can be water stressed.* (Continuously, in bursts, etc.). And it turns out these ways have *drastically different effects* with drastically different measures required for response to them to keep from losing lots of money and resources in agriculture.
Nice work, college boy. :p
Point the second: surprise! Anna Haldewang is an industrial design student. She developed this in her product design class. And, as far as I can tell, she has had no particular funding at all for this project, much less billions of dollars.
‘grats, Anna, you FUCKING ROCK.
ps: On a lighter note, summarizing research to make it sound stupid is both easy AND fun. Check out @lolmythesis – I HIGHLY RECOMMEND. :33
I’d also like to chime in that a chunk of my family are apple farmers, and one thing I learned visiting them is that you can’t always let bees pollinate. With certain apple varieties, people have to go out with little paintbrushes to pollinate them by hand, because if they cross-pollinate with the wrong variety the apples won’t come out the same. Beebots could potentially be a huge time-saver at that task, because depending on how the algorithms work, you could just tell them “Don’t go into the Gala field next door” and let them do the job more efficiently than you without having to worry about getting weird mutant apples.
Also holy shit all science is not interchangeable. Nobody got up one morning and said “instead of saving the bees I’m going to build a bee robot.”
The only problem with those robots is a marketing one. Make ‘em anthropomorphic, like pixies, and people would be all over that shit and want them as pets.
I feel morally obligated to remind everyone, when I see discourse like this, that there are vested interests in destroying the public’s faith in
Evidence-based statements
Publicly-funded science
Critical examination of the media
Affection and investment for the natural world
And this is something I’ve been explaining for years.
And next thing you know it’s 2017 and everyone is surprised that the CDC has been told not to use the words “vulnerable” or “evidence-based” when writing their budgets. And the people running the world are able to deny the effects of climate change while the waters rise. This is how you get hurricanes while people tell you there aren’t any hurricanes. And how conspiracy theories are more attractive than the truth.
We got here on purpose because we wanted to be here. Because cynicism seemed cooler than wonder. Because of course the world is broken so why bother?
Because we didn’t want to be like those wide-eyed nerds and their silly robot bees.
I think I may have rebligged the root post before without particularly examining how counter to my values it is. Though, I do truly hope that scientific research can fix the woes of ailing bees before we have to implement any robot army based solutions.
every time i see this im reminded of the “shrimp on a treadmill” thing that people were lambasted for being a “waste of taxpayer money”. DESPITE the fact that it was like a few thousand dollars MAX and done by a student in university (with a grant provided BY THE UNIVERSITY) to study how the negative water quality in the gulf of mexico caused by the bp spill would affect oxygen processing in shrimp.
which is a SIGNIFICANT part of the fishing industry down there and how some folks literally make their living. it also ties into ecology and conservation since you don’t want to overfish shrimp populations that arent going able to bounce back from it. you also dont want to start resorting to fishing methods that will do more harm to to the environment to try to get bigger hauls to hit basic demand if theres nothing there to catch.
my own research was mostly done out of pocket w a few hundred dollars grant despite the fact that it involved potentially an entirely new mode of sensory input as of yet undiscovered by science that had LOADS of potential applications in biology and robotics. but boil it down to “put a scorpion in a maze in the dark to see if it bumps into walls” on paper and people just kinda roll your eyes at you. hell, i even built my own lab apparatuses and paid for the materials with money from my food budget. (bulk dry spaghetti saved my life)
anytime you see a “lol this science was a waste of money” it’s almost always blatant propaganda to encourage the cutting back of research and the justification of budget cuts. dig a little deeper into “dumb studies” and there’s usually some very nifty applications or hypotheses being tested that have real world applications concerning problems that exist RIGHT NOW.
not to say you shouldnt think critically about WHY something is being studied, but the studies you usually have to look out for are the ones privately funded by groups looking to push an agenda (ones from christian “family” groups on homosexuality/lgbt issues, stuff from people with connections to big oil/etc who do studies on global warming, or on the other end of the political spectrum something from pro-marijuana lobbyist about how marijuana will cure -insertailmenthere-). there could still be good raw data in these studies, assuming it hasnt been altered or data sets excluded, but it will be presented in such a way to make their point so you have to keep that in mind (as well as their methodology and things that could have been intentionally or unintentionally skewing the data, but that goes for any study)
I’m your kid’s teacher, and I would take a bullet for your child. But I wish you wouldn’t ask me to.
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We had an intruder drill today.
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I have shepherded children through a lot of intruder drills. I have also, on one memorable occasion, shepherded children through a non-drill. When I was a children’s librarian in a rough suburb, armed men got into a fight in the alley behind our building. We ushered all of the kids – most of whom were unattended – into the basement while we waited for the police.
During intruder drills, some children – from five-year-olds all the way to high school kids – get visibly upset. At one school, the intruder drill included administrators running down the hallways, screaming and banging on lockers to simulate the “real thing.” Kids cry. Kindergartners wet themselves. Teenagers laugh, nudging each other, even as the blood drains from their faces.
Other children handle intruder drills matter-of-factly. “Would the guy be able to shoot us through the door?” they ask, the same way they’d ask a question about their math homework. In some ways, this is worse than the kids who cry. To be so young and so accustomed to fear that these drills seem routine.
And then there are the teachers. There is no way, huddling in a corner with your students, ducking out of view of the windows and doors, to avoid thinking about what happens when it’s not a drill.
.
People really hate teachers. I don’t take it personally. It actually makes a lot of sense: what other group of professionals do we know so well? How many doctors have you had? How many plumbers? How many secretaries?
Over the course of my public school education, I had at least fifty teachers for at least a year each. So of course some of them were bad. You take fifty people from any profession, and a couple of them are going to be terrible at their job.
So I had a couple of teachers who were terrible, and a few teachers who were amazing, inspirational figures – the kinds of teachers they make movies about.
And then I had a lot of teachers who did a good job. They came to school every day and worked hard. They’d planned our lessons and they graded our papers. I learned what I was supposed to, more or less, even if it wasn’t the most incredible learning experience of my life.
Most teachers fall into that category. I’m sure I do.
Looking at it from the other side, though, I see something that I didn’t know when I was a kid.
Those workhorse teachers who tried, who failed sometimes and sometimes succeeded, who showed up every day and did their jobs: those teachers loved us.
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Of course you can never know what you’ll do in the event. That’s what they always say. In the event of an intruder, a fire, a tornado.
You can never know until you know.
But part of what’s so terrifying, so upsetting about an intruder drill as a teacher, is that on some level you do know. You don’t aspire to martyrdom; you’ve never wanted to be a hero. You go home every night to a family that loves you, and you intend to spend the next fifty years with them. You will do everything in your power to hide yourself in that office along with your kids.
But if you can’t.
If you can’t.
.
When people tell me about why they oppose gun control, I can’t hear it anymore.
I’m from a part of the country where everybody has guns. I used to be really moderate about this stuff, and I am not anymore.
I can’t be.
Every day, I go to work in a building that contains hundreds of children. Every single one of those kids, including every kid that makes me crazy, is a joy and a blessing. They make their parents’ lives meaningful. They make my life meaningful. They are the reason I go to work in the morning, and the reason I worry and plan when I come home.
Parents usually know a handful of kids who are the most wonderful creatures on the planet. I know a couple thousand. It is an incredible privilege, and it is also terrifying. The world is big and scary, and I love so many small people who must go out into it.
So when adults tell me, “I have the right to own a gun”, all I can hear is: “My right to own a gun outweighs your students’ right to be alive.” All I can hear is: “My right to own a gun is more important than kindergarteners feeling safe at school.” All I can hear is: “Mine. Mine. Mine.”
.
When you are sitting there hiding in the corner of your classroom, you know.
The alternative would be unthinkable.
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We live in a country where children are acceptable casualties. Every time someone tells me about the second amendment I want to give them a history lesson. I also want to ask them: in what universe is your right to walk into a Wal-Mart to buy a deadly weapon more important than the lives of hundreds of children shot dead in their schools?
Parents send their kids to school every day with this shadow. Teachers live with the shadow. We work alongside it. We plan for it. In the event.
In the event, parents know that their children’s teachers will do everything in their power to keep them safe. We plan for it.
And when those plans don’t work, teachers die protecting their students.
We love your children. That’s why we’re here. Some of us love the subject we teach, too, and that’s important, but all of us love your kids.
The alternative would be unthinkable.
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When you are waiting, waiting, waiting for the voice to come on over the PA, telling you that the drill is over, you look at the apprehensive faces around you. You didn’t grow up like this. You never once hid with your teacher in a corner, wondering if a gunman was just around the corner. It is astonishing to you that anyone tolerates this.
And the kids are nervous, but they are all looking to you. You’re their teacher.
They know what you didn’t know, back when you were a kid, back before Columbine. They know that you love them. They know you will keep them safe.
You’re their teacher.
.
If you are a parent who thinks it’s totally reasonable for civilians to have a house full of assault weapons, and who accepts the blood of innocent people in exchange for that right, it doesn’t change anything for me. I will love your kid. I will treat you, and your child, the same way I treat everyone else: with all of the respect and the care that is in me.
In the event, I will do everything in my power to keep your child safe.
I just want you to know what you are asking me to do.
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