Kaiser permanente ming medical offices

SO I've been doing food delivery with one of the major employers. It's been less than a week..so far I earn good amounts that make life easier for me.
I am calling the SSA phone to report my wages.
Am I going about this right way? I called ticket to work for information they will send out.
I can't report my wages online so I may have to sit at the office tomorrow.
My question I guess is
-How will self employed like uber affect my medical review? I thought remember reading that trying to work would potentially allow me to skip the medical review. Does SOCIAL SECURITY show leniency for people who try to work or do they deem them as cured and thus able to work? I know my body and do not believe I am ready for full time work..but let's be honest....who doesn't want more $$..and I know if you don't hunt you don't get fed so I'm trying the self employed thing out.
-Do I have to report ALL wages or only if I make more than a certain amount?
-How do I enter the trial work activity? Can you earn any amount during this period?
Now I only deliver for about 2-3hours MAX. So I'm not ever gonna earn more than like 300 for the whole month.

Hey all, looking for some advice/encouragement/reality check. I’ve been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder and I’ve been looking to enter the medical field. However, my mental illnesses can be debilitating in certain aspects of my life, and I’m concerned about how this will impact my chances of getting into medical school, or even if I should apply to medical school at all given my mental illnesses. I’ve always dreamed of working in underserved areas as a practicing psychiatrist- being someone who helped others and removed the stigma from medication as treatment for mental illness. Im looking into doing many things to boost my application, such as: starting a suicide prevention organization at my uni, volunteering with a doctor who knows admissions officers at Rosalind Franklin, and interviewing for jobs as medical assistants, etc. I’m just worried that I won’t be successful at all. Is anyone else here diagnosed with mental illness that has successfully made it into medical school?
Thanks :)

https://omny.fm/shows/feedback/the-meg-ellefson-show-060123-guest-rep-barb-dittri
In a recent interview with a conservative Podcaster, Rep. Barbara Dettrich (Drunken Barb) voiced her opinions on the inevitable legalization of cannabis (medical and or recreational). I can't believe we have people in office that genuinely believe alcohol is a safer alternative to cannabis. Let alone someone who genuinely believes you can't lace booze with fent or any other hard drugs.... she's endangering our state's public health and safety, more so than cannabis ever will. VOTE HER OUT!
Edit: I'd also like to mention that the Tavern league was and booze distributors are major campaign donor's to Rep.Dittrich. https://www.transparencyusa.org/wi/candidate/barbara-dittrich/contributors?page=5

I (25 y/o female) am a business grad (2021) wanting to change my career path and finally pursue medicine.
However, due to personal reasons (ex. eating disorder & sick mom), my cumulative GPA was only 3.0. That being said, I was able to obtain a ~3.7 my last 2 years and make the honour roll multiple times. I have also read that doing a PostBac would only matter to USask GPA wise - is this true or would it help me regardless?
I've been volunteering since I was 16 (ex. Ronald McDonald House Charities, Calgary Silver Linings Foundation, Calgary Public Library, Calgary Drop-In Centre, Pawsitive Match Rescue Foundation, Bethany Care Society, Distress Centre Calgary, Brenda Strafford Foundation, Alberta Children's Hospital), and have work experience in the HR sector.
If I do really good on the MCAT and obtain more relevant experience (ex. research, medical office assistant, etc.), as well as write a great personal statement, do I have a chance of getting accepted within Canada or should I just go straight to the Caribbean? I know the latter choice would be a gamble, though, due to poor rep in addition to the difficulty of matching into residency and finding a job as an IMG. That being said, everyone I know so far who has went to the Caribbean has matched into competitive residencies, such as surgery.
I'm just worried that if spend an extra year or so perfecting my application, I still may get rejected and it will thus have all been a waste of my time and efforts. I'm only getting older, and want to have a family someday, so I feel my time is running out. :(
Any advice or success stories/words of encouragement would be greatly appreciated! <3

Hi all! I know everyone’s experience and journey getting this surgery done is different. I am looking to get the surgery done as my weight is just something complicating my life. My BMI is currently 41 and climbing , I have PCOS so it makes it almost impossible to lose weight. I’ve tried diet changes, gym, supplements, medications and it just doesn’t work. I have an upcoming appointment with my pcp at Kaiser and I was wondering for those who got their surgery covered by their insurance, did you absolutely need to complete a weight loss program as a requirement? I’m hoping considering my PCOS condition and BMI I wouldn’t need to . But if anyone has any information about their initial consultation and requirements, I’m all ears!

I decided to check my benefits today under the letter section. (I totally haven't been doing this monday to Friday since I mailed my application)
And I got my odsp acceptance letter. Luckily for me I didn't have to do any appeals process.
Now I just have to wait for the local idsp office to eventually call me to complete the transfer to odsp from ontario works.
And I'll be able to afford medication that isn't covered by ODB.

If I had to pick an embarrassing moment which will haunt me until I die—it has to be the time I tried out for The Sunbeam cheer squad last year. I was a freshman, and I wanted community. Friends.
I heard the cheer squad were just an extra-curricular group rather than an actual majoring level class, so I figured I’d give them a shot. It’s not like I could ignore them.
On my first day when I was moving into my dorm room, I must have walked into the same girl three times. I am in strict belief that it is not possible for a human being to be permanently happy.
And yet that was her. She wandered around like the sun shone right out of her ass, and it was both endearing and terrifying.
The girl resembled the sun herself, a halo of golden curls held in a scrunchie and a flaunting sundress, matching ribbons wrapped around her. The Sunbeam Squad were easy to spot because they were all wearing insanely bright yellow—waving around gold streamers, ribbons tangled in their hair. They all spoke in insanely high pitched voices like they inhaled helium for a living, but that must have been their shtick, right? It was kind of cute. I wasn’t expecting such a welcome in the shape of guy’s and girl’s looking like they had just stepped off of ABC Kids. The girl who handed me a flyer and yelled in my face about school spirit was practically hopping up and down, a bright grin splitting her lips apart.
I nodded and smiled politely, stuffing the flyer in my bag and heading into my room to finish moving my stuff in. When I looked out of my window a few hours later, the Sunbeam squad was still threaded through the crowd, each of them wrapped in glittering fairy lights illuminated in the late evening sunset glow. Sunbeam. Yeah, I got it, but it was still kinda overkill. They were starting to remind me of a cult.
That, however, didn’t stop me trying out. I’m fairly athletic, and they were exactly what I wanted. I’ve never had a group of people I could call friends.
Though it’s not like I could blame anyone but myself. I was a shut-in for most of high school. I either worked or preferred my own company in my room. One of my biggest regrets is pushing people away, friends I wanted to get even closer to. Because now they had built these lifelong friendships and relationships, and I was stuck at 18 years old with nobody but childhood friends I spoke to once a year when we sent mutual holiday greetings to each other. But college could change that.
At least, that’s what I hoped. I spoke to as many people as possible on my first day—and in my head I was making them. Slowly but surely I was actually making friends in my classes I wanted to hang out with.
Sunbeam were my attempt to go even further and join a club. Through word of mouth in my first few weeks of classes, I learned they were more of an extra-curricular group for fun.
They didn’t cheer competitively and had been formed in the mid-90’s by some kids who wanted to make a community out of positivity and school spirit. Sunbeam had a reputation for being Watson State student body’s beacons—and their team’s good luck charm. It was well known across campus that the squad was the reason behind the college’s fortune.
It had been like that since they formed 30 years ago, with members through the generations carrying out that pledge to spread as much pep as possible. While I say that they seemed nice judging from what I heard from others, they weren’t exactly the easiest clique to get into. Unless you were on the squad.
I saw them around campus between classes. They always moved as a group, the six of them with their arms wrapped around each other, brandishing the school colours. The guy’s in loose fitting varsity jackets, while the girl’s flaunted cheer skirts.
The way they acted was a little too close, like they were more than friends—and community and friendship had bled into something else. Like they had just walked out of an early 2000’s teen movie. Not that I was complaining. Their style was intriguing. They were like this untouchable group of god’s who had been placed on the highest pedestals. They ruled over campus, which made me want to get to know them even more. So, I tried out. Which was my first mistake of many in my freshman year.
It didn’t hit me that I was in way over my head until I was in the college gymnasium, standing in front of a four person panel like I was auditioning for a Hollywood movie. Sunbeam took their try-outs incredibly seriously. Which was weird considering they were known to be the complete opposite.
There were maybe fifty or so applicants, and we had to stand near the back wall and watch others try out one by one. Which was already setting off my anxiety. Weren’t they supposed to be closed try-outs? Initially, I was excited.
I had my routine in my head. What I had learned from watching the squad at my old school. High V, Low V, followed by a Touchdown, and then a backflip. I was confident. I mean, it ticked most cheer moves off, and even had a flip to complete the routine. My high school were a multi-sex quad, so I learned a lot from watching the guy’s moves during pep rallies.
I wasn’t really worried about the quality of the moves since they were known not to take everything too seriously. But watching the others try-out, impossible flips without crash mats and twisting their bodies in ways I didn’t know was possible, I quickly realised I was screwed. My competitors were acting like they were auditioning for an Olympic level team. My gut was dancing when I took centre stage.
The panel were made up of four members of the squad. Two boys and two girl’s, including the blonde who handed me the flyer on my first day. I was surprised when her eyes lit up with recognition.
"Oh, I know you!" She squeaked. Leaning forward, her smile seemed to brighten, illuminating her features. All four of them seemed to emanate a warm glow.
I felt myself relax slightly, the knot in my stomach loosening. Maybe their heightened positivity thing wasn’t a shtick, after all. The girl, as well as the other members of the team seemed genuinely happy to see me trying out. “What’s your name?” Her voice reverberated off of the walls, and I was suddenly aware of a dozen other students watching me.
“Alex.” I said, offering a shy wave. “Hey.”
Still grinning, she nudged a redhead next to her playfully. The guy was like no other I’d seen before. He was a god damn traffic light. He was easy to spot in a crowd and was usually one of the low-key members who kept his head down. All of those colours painting him, and yet somehow he wasn’t blinding people.
Though admittedly, he suited them; bright red hair clashing with the blue and gold of his football jersey, pasty skin and dark eyes drinking me in while the blonde girl pulled at his sleeve. “See, I told you annoying freshmen would work!”
In response, he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, Evie.” The guy straightened up, leaning his chin on his fist, a curious spark in his eyes. “Alright.” Twisting around in his chair, he signalled for music. When it started, the beat slammed into me, rumbling under my feet. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”
I’m not going to describe my routine because I don’t have time to describe how fucking bad I was. In my head, I was doing okay. I was ready to finish with my back flip, but the music abruptly cut off and I found myself struggling to find my breath with my hands in the air, panting like an idiot. The blonde maintained her smile, but it was slightly strained. I could tell she was struggling to keep the façade of a Sunbeam member while also retaining critical thinking.
The redhead looked like he was in pain. He was first to speak, and I could tell by his sympathy smile I’d screwed up. The others who I hadn’t fully taken in until that moment, an asian American guy, and a girl with pigtails, were laughing like pre-schoolers. And they didn’t stop until the redhead shot them the warning eyes.
Weirdly enough, the crowd of onlookers didn’t join in. I expected the redhead to politely tell me I sucked, but instead he cocked his head, chewing on his pen. “You’re good.” He said. “You’re a good dancer, and I liked your moves…”
He trailed off. “But it’s positivity we’re looking for. And you didn’t smile once through your whole routine which made you look stiff. Like you weren’t even enjoying it.” He shrugged helplessly. “I like you, and I like your dancing. And I’m sure you could be better if you worked on it. There are countless dancing clubs here, so maybe you might be better fitted there.” After exchanging a look with the blonde, he sighed. “Unfortunately, you’re not the type of person we’re looking for.”
Evie nodded. “I agree. We pride ourselves on staying positive and smiling. I didn’t see that on you, Alex.”
“Same here.” Pigtails, still giggling, joined in. “I don’t think you’ve got enough school spirit.”
The other guy scoffed. He looked to be of Korean descent. Unlike the redhead, he was always at the centre of their group, always joking around and laughing. Just looking at him told me he was the leader. “Bullshit!” He slapped the table with one hand, running his hands through thick dark hair with the other. “I liked it. Fuck pep, amirite?” He threw his pen at the blonde, who retaliated in a squeak, lobbing hers at him. “Ignore these clowns. I think you’ve got what it takes. We just gotta work on you, y’know? All you’re missing is a cheesy grin.”
He pointed to himself, stretching his lips into the widest smile he could muster. “See? Like this.”
“Clowns?” Evie shook her head. “I didn’t see one smile. Sunbeam is all about smiling!”
“You make us sound like a cult.” The Korean-American caught my eye. “Which we’re not, by the way. These guys are just scared of change.”
“Okay, that’s too far.” Pigtails shot him a scowl. Are you seriously disrespecting the alumni who created us? Who birthed us?
“Well, yeah!” He threw his paper at her. “Sunbeam is a pep cult. We get high off of happiness. I thought we distinguished that.”
“Take that back!”
“Never! Why do you think I joined? To get high! Do you really think I joined for the cheering?”
They were joking around. I could tell by the smiles on their faces—a smile I knew I would never be able to mimic.
“Quiet.” The redhead shushed them. The guy had been sitting silently. Studying me. He leaned back, folding his arms.
“See, even now—even when I’m considering giving you a chance, there’s no hope in your eyes. Not even a glitter of excitement. You’re still not smiling and that’s what we want, Alex. We want people who will embody what Sunbeam is all about. Even if I give you a second chance to brighten up your routine your smile will be fake. And that’s not what we want. We want people who are willing to shed their humanity and become beacons.”
Beacons, huh?
And they were seriously saying they weren’t a cult?
The redhead stabbed at his sheet of paper with the end of his pen. “Can’t you just give us one smile? It won’t kill you.”
It was then when the others watching started to laugh—and I wanted to punch the asshole in the face.
“Dude, chill.” The Korean-American played with his pen, twirling it between two fingers. “He’s right, as much as I hate saying it. We do need smilers, unfortunately. But hey, you can try out next year! Just remember to smile, alright?” He threw something at me. A squashed candy bar.
Which made me look even more pathetic.
I found myself nodding, even when I knew it was all bullshit. Still though, what each member had told me hit me harder than it should have. They were just words, what could they do? It turned out, words were far more powerful than I realised—I just didn’t know it yet. I didn’t wait for the others to speak and made a quick getaway, my gut twisting and turning.
They were a cult. That is what I decided. These guys were a cult who needed members willing to throw away their souls. Probably for ritualistic sacrifice.
They needed weak people, I thought. Even when part of me knew they were right. I wasn't a smiler. Every photo I'm in, I'm either frowning or look constipated. Still though, I didn't dwell on the try-outs for too long. By the time a week had gone by, I had mostly forgotten about it and threw myself into my studies and college life.
Though something was wrong with me. It was as if the world had slowed down, had stopped making sense completely. Every day felt like a dream, and I myself felt like I was a ghost, like I was disassociating from my own body. Conversations with people felt fake. Like I was making them up.
I remember waking up day after day in a daze I couldn’t get myself out of. It was only several weeks later did the thick mind fog which had been blanketing my brain finally lift—only for me to hear the news that all six members of the Sunbeam squad had disappeared. I don’t know how I didn’t notice, how I didn’t see the police investigation, or hear rumours being spread around like wildfire.
According to the college, it wasn't technically considered a disappearance since the members were all over eighteen, no longer minors. However, an investigation was conducted, with a statement being released that they were due to be performing at Knoxville College, cheering on our football team. But they never turned up. And what made it worse, was their bus was found abandoned on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Sounds bad, right?
Well, that's what we all thought. Vigils were already being held, and bodies weren't even found yet. Every time I walked back to my dorm after classes, the night would be lit up in warm golden light, candles flickering in the breeze. I'm not sure how many days had gone by-- they all seemed to blur into one-- when our college made another statement. The members of the Sunbeam squad were alive and healthy and had been sent to a training academy for professionals.
When the student body responded with confusion and scepticism, the college reassured us they were coming back once they were finished training. And while my classmates were relieved, I found myself confused. Sunbeam didn't cheer competitively. Their whole thing was that all they wanted to do was spread cheer and pep, regardless of how good they were. I had seen them perform, and they were good, sure. They were better than average. But definitely not good enough to be trained into pro’s. Their moves were too clumsy, too half assed—which I was convinced they thought overwhelming amounts of positivity could fix. So it didn’t make sense that they had been sent to some training academy. I kept up my scepticism until I saw them for myself.
The college were right. Sunbeam returned a week later like nothing had happened.
I did see a change in them. I think that was a universal opinion though. Sunbeam were well known for their pep and cheer, their constant smiling faces which drove me crazy—and it’s not like that stopped. They still smiled. They still walked around campus laughing together, in their own little world. That was when people were watching. When they had an audience. I caught them when they didn’t have an audience. Without eyes on them, they detached from each other, their eyes darkening, expressions twisting, like each of them could smell something rotten in the air. I started noticing they were getting progressively clumsier at keeping up that Sunbeam façade they must have pledged when they joined the group. I figured it was just tiredness. They must have been through some pretty intense training.
Anyway, months went by. I started to feel less distant, and the fog which had been choking me faded, thankfully. I started my junior year moving into a shared house with my roommate, and the only talk I’d heard about Sunbeam was that one of their ex members was rumoured to be pregnant. As for the rest of the squad, they were still popular, still talked about—but their disappearance had definitely made people wary of them. I even heard someone say they were considered bad luck. I guess people thought they had sold themselves out for a chance to get into the big leagues. And it wouldn’t surprise me.
Forced positivity can get you a long way, sure—but recognition can get you further.
It was just a few weeks ago when I was invited to a game. Our first of the season, thanks to delays due to cuts in the sports department. I’m not much of a sports fan, though I needed a distraction from the copious amounts of assignments I’d let pile on my desk.
When I sat down with a chilli dog and Coke, I wasn’t expecting to get so invested in a game where I had no idea what was happening. It was loud and obnoxious and I was choking on the stink of fried food, but it was fun. It was fun until Sunbeam walked out onto the side-lines. I glimpsed them in a blur of blue and gold, and a dull pain crawled across the back of my head. “You okay?” My housemate’s voice was barely distinguishable in my ears, when I found myself transfixed by the way they moved in erratic jumps, quickly taking position. They had gotten better. Everything which was Sunbeam had been stripped away. Their smiles were forced. Wrong.
I remembered they used to push and shove each other, making the crowd laugh. Now though, they were in almost perfect sync in the way they moved, no longer shakily, sometimes stumbling into each other. Their routine was longer than it usually was—and when the Korean-American guy perfected a triple flip, the crowd went crazy. I expected him to smile when he landed, grinning into the audience to generate what Sunbeam was made for. But his expression stayed stoic. Robotic. They were stiff. Heads up, backs straight, staring ahead of them. I was told when I tried out that fake smiles weren’t allowed, and yet that was all I was seeing. I was seeing egotistical grins and curled lips, quick glances between each member.
I expected looks of reassurances, and in jokes only they found funny. Instead, it looked like a mutual agreement.
They were planning something. From the looks on their faces, it wasn’t a firework show.
Sunbeam used to generate happiness. Their smiles, even under a façade, had always been real.
These guys emanated power. The way they stood. The guy’s at the front, readying what I guessed was a lift, and the girl’s on top of them.
Their routine ended with the music reaching a climax, and the two main girl’s being lifted into the air while performing High V’s.
But they didn’t stop there.
When the crowd exploded with applause, one of the girl’s slowly raised her arms and shot into the crowd with finger guns.
She shot twice—and with every time she pulled that imaginary trigger, her painted lips stretched into a maniacal grin.Until her gaze was on me. And then behind me. I could see it in her glittering eyes I could no longer call human. I met Evie at the start of my freshman year, and then at the disastrous try-outs.
I knew her wide smile, and the glint of passion twisting her expression—a love for the group and the members she couldn’t put into words. Right then I wasn’t seeing Evie, a Sunbeam cheerleader. I was seeing something else entirely, a being scanning faces in the crowd for a victim.
Her expression seemed to melt, from a gleeful grin, to something twisted and putrid, someone who craved the exact opposite of what Sunbeam preached. I watched her lips. I watched the words pop into existence, drowned into nothing by the crowds cheering. But I saw them in perfect clarity. “Drop.” She said, before pulling the imaginary trigger again.
No sooner had the words left her mouth before someone screamed behind me. I twisted around to see a guy had collapsed. He was pronounced dead five minutes later by his sobbing girlfriend who had attempted CPR. When I twisted back to look out onto the field, the Sunbeam Squad were gone. It didn’t make sense that they were the ones to cause the guy’s death—but it couldn’t have been a coincidence, right? Evie had shot into the crowd at the exact same time the guy had dropped dead. Finger guns weren’t a weapon of course, but the timing was too coincidental. I already knew there was something wrong with Sunbeam. And this just strengthened my claims.
Obviously, when I tried to tell people this, I was called crazy. Delusional. I reported it to the student information building and just got a blank stare.
The woman wasn’t even attempting to hear my story. She just heard “murder” and “Sunbeam” and her lips curved into an amused smirk. “You know, you are quite fascinating,” leaning back against her chair, the woman frowned at me through wonky glasses. "First you unexpectedly quit, and then you accuse them of murder. Which I can tell you is false.”
She flipped through a notebook in front of her. “According to the autopsy report released a few days ago, the young man died of a brain haemorrhage, not the result of being pretend shot at by a cheerleader miming finger-guns.” The woman cleared her throat.
“Tell me, what exactly do you have against the Sunbeam squad?"
“What?”
“You quit the squad at the end of your freshman year,” she said, “And now you’re trying to accuse them of murder? Fascinating.”
Her words struck me, a shiver sliding down my spine. The office was cosy, and when I sunk into the rich leather of the couch in front of a roaring fire I recognised the book on her desk. It was a dog eared copy of Harry Potter. I’d seen it before. But that was impossible. I had never been in her office. “Quit?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t…” I trailed off, stumbling over my words. “I’ve never been part of Sunbeam.”
“Were you not?” She shook her head, a crease forming between her brows. “Ah, I must be getting you mixed up with someone else.”
I nodded. “Just… can you just listen to me? That Evie girl was fucking—”
She cut me off. “Language.”
“Sorry. Evie. She was… I don’t know what she was doing... she was doing like... like magic?”
“Are you sure you didn’t dream it?”
“Yes!"
“Mmm hmm.” The woman cleared her throat, dismissing my protests. “I’m not a doctor, but If you’re experiencing memory loss and confusion, I suggest you go to the hospital. As for your ludicrous claims, you should keep them to yourself. That poor young man died due to a brain haemorrhage. Terrible and tragic, yes. But it was accidental, and not the work of… I’m sorry, what were you claiming it to be?”
“Magic.” I said, again.
When she raised her brow, I couldn’t resist a groan. “I saw her! She shot into the crowd and mouthed something!”
“She… mouthed something?”
“Yes! But—"
Again, her words sliced into mine. “Okay, let’s say you were right,” she said. “If you are saying this girl shot into the crowd with her imaginary gun, wouldn’t it be a gun shot which would have killed him? You said it yourself—, it was some kind of witchy magic to kill him. So, where was the bullet wound?” When I tried to speak, she raised her arm to shut me up.
“Exactly. There was none. Because the man suffered a haemorrhagic stroke, and nothing could be done to save him. Your claims a group of young people carried this out as a murder is not only blatant defamation, but also disrespectful to the young man and his family. Now, please leave my office. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” The woman nodded for me to stand up. “I think you have been watching too much TV. Might I suggest focusing on your studies?”
I left her office, slamming the door.
My housemate wasn’t helpful when I told him. He told me I was maybe a little too obsessed with Sunbeam. He headed to work, and I ended up in the lounge trying to focus on an episode of Criminal Minds. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Evie.
I saw what she said.
Drop.
But it wasn’t the force of her imaginary finger-guns ricocheting back. It was the word. Drop.
It had been alive on her lips like it was a sentient thing bleeding into existence. I managed to fall asleep, twisted like a pretzel in my housemate’s favourite chair, when three loud knocks on the door tore me from slumber. I was on my feet, blinking, disoriented. It was rare when we got a visitor. Stumbling over to the door, I had a moment of hesitation. I imagined Evie on the other side.
I imagined her raising her arm and shooting her pretend finger-guns directly into my head.
When I opened the door, I was surprised to see three little kids. The youngest must have been maybe nine years old. To my surprise, they were dressed in Halloween costumes. There was a little witch, a ghost, and a scarecrow all carrying pumpkin shaped holders It took me a moment to realise I was staring at a group of Trick or Treaters. It wasn’t even mid-October yet.
“Hey there,” I said, “Uh, you guys are a little early.”
The little girl’s eyes were wide and unblinking. “We want candy.” She held out her candy holder. “Now.”
I decided to be firm with them. “It’s not Halloween.” I said, taking a small step back. I was grasping the handle, ready to slam it in their faces. These little shits were freaking me out. Not just their tone, but their expressions were vacant. There were no lights on and that terrified me. “Sorry kids, I don’t have any candy. But like I said, come back when it’s actually Halloween, and I’ll have candy bars for all of you. "
What I wasn’t expecting was for the Scarecrow to pull a knife out of his pumpkin shaped candy holder. He didn’t hold it like a kid should, clumsily, confused. There was a strategic way the way his fingers were wrapped around the handle—like he’d brandished one before. The kid held the knife up to his own neck and made a slicing motion. Like the little girl, his eyes were blank. Unblinking. There was something wrong in the way he was standing. Stiff, like a puppet on strings. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He squeaked out a laugh. I didn’t see him lunge forward, I was already moving back, stumbling, losing my footing.
The kid moved with impossible speed—and before I knew what was happening, the hilt of the knife was buried in my lower leg. I didn’t even feel pain. My body was being driven by adrenaline, pushing me to get away from him. I remember falling back. I remember my own trembling hands grasping hold of the handle and pulling out the knife. Red was pooling down my jeans and onto our hardwood floor. The little kids turned around and ran back down the steps into the night, and I watched them in a sort of daze.
They didn’t move like normal.
They stalked down the sidewalk like video game characters. The witch shoved a passing old man before pulling out a gun and pointing it at his head. But she didn’t shoot. The three of them ran off—and it was only when I was watching the top of the girl’s witch hat disappear into the night, when I glimpsed something—or someone—at the corner of my eye.
Before I heard laughter. The tree in front of me moved. At first I thought they were shadow’s. Before the shadows bled into figures. Four of them. I glimpsed the school colours. Blue and Gold. I saw twin ponytails, velvet and blonde-- as well as the tell-tale Sunbeam varsity jacket. The group were laughing, whispering to each other. Not exactly doing a good job of hiding. When they slipped from their hiding place, I recognised Evie. Her fingers gingerly on her nose while intense red pooled down her chin.
The others were the same, swiping at their faces with jacket sleeves. They didn’t seem fazed. The redhead’s gaze was latched onto the retreating children, his lips curling. I could sense he was still tethered to them. He was still commanding them to act out grand theft auto. They had caused the man’s death at the game and had controlled those children.
I wasn’t crazy or delusional. Evie had killed someone by simply shooting imaginary finger guns, and somehow the others were able to bleed into children’s heads, taking them over.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I heaved out a breath. The pain was starting to hit in waves I had to grit through. I couldn’t move. I was stuck, curled up on my floor. While they laughed.
I was halfway through stabbing 911 into my phone when one of them came over. It was the Korean-American. The one who had been the nicest to me out of all of them. The real smile I remembered was gone, replaced by something inhuman. Something I didn’t want to question.
With his hands stuffed in his varsity jacket pockets, he approached me with mocking eyes, almost an attempt at trying to mimic his old self.
The guy knelt in front of me with a chuckle. “Kids these days, right? They’re animals.”
His voice, no, his words, were hurting me. I felt each one penetrate me like gunshots.
My wound wasn’t bad. That’s what I estimated, anyway. I don’t think the kid had hit anything vital. But I needed the emergency room. I still had one hand grasping at my side, drenched in red.
I managed a hiss, grasping for my phone when he pulled it out of my grasp and waved it in the air. “Fuck off. What did you do to those little kids?” I gritted out, trying to reach for my damn phone. I was starting to feel the pain in my side and it hurt like a mother fucker—dizzying bolts of electricity which felt like waves of boiling hot water slamming into me one by one. I tried to get onto my knees, but he pushed me back down again. The guy cocked his head to the side, confusion creasing his expression.
“Ouch. That must hurt.”
"What did you... what did you do?" I hissed out.
His presence was hurting me. Every time he opened his mouth, it was agony. Somehow, it was worse than the stab-wound. This kind of pain was no other I’d felt before. The type I’d rather die than feel. A cry was clawing at my throat, fight or flight taking over. Again, I tried to move, I tried to get away from him. But he was holding down my arms and prodding at my side before sticking his finger in the cut and twisting. "I didn't do anything, Alex.”
His voice barely hit me when my vision blurred and I screamed. Like a fucking animal, I screamed. But not because his fingers were digging around in my insides.
Because my brain was suddenly boiling, a metal rod piercing my skull and stirring it into a soupy mess. His voice was inside me. It was bleeding into me, taking over me. But not just his voice. The world blurred around me and I was no longer in my doorway, bleeding out against the wall.
Instead, I was moving. I was… I was walking. No, I was being dragged. Except these weren’t my memories. This wasn’t my mind. I could see bare feet beneath me delicately slapping on white tiles. When I looked up, I saw an expanse of white like I was being led straight into the clouds. This was a building. There were glass doors and electronic panels, people in black guarding each one. It took a while for me to gain my senses—or him to gain his.
We could smell something like chlorine and taste rusty coins at the back of our throat. Feel the ice cold tiles against our bare toes. A strange feeling at the back of our head. We kept wanting to run our fingers through our hair, but every time we did, our fingers only touched bare skin. Scuffed and rigged skin. Tight fingers were wrapped around our arm, dragging us further and further into a white oblivion. Until a glass door seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
From now on, I am going to describe his memories very vaguely. I’m just going to tell you what I saw.
The room we walked into reminded me of a classroom—but there were no desks. In front of me were the other members of Sunbeam pressed against the back wall. They faced forwards, their gazes penetrating nothing. But I saw they were trembling. Terrified. The squad were dressed in pale white shorts and t-shirt, ugly red spattering the front. There were still traces of blue and glitter on their faces, ribbons hanging from bedraggled curls.
Their feet were bare and filthy like ours. When we were shoved forwards, we took our place next to Evie who had half of her hair shaved off. Her arms were folded across her cheer uniform, her bare feet tapping a beat against the floor. When a woman with dark red hair held in a strict ponytail entered and asked if either of us wanted to show her what we had learned, Evie eagerly raised her hand. “Okay, Evie.” The woman’s voice was too sweet. Sickly sweet. She gestured for the girl forward. “Show us what you’ve got.”
The door opened, and a man stepped through. His hands were tied in front of him, his eyes blank.
Evie nodded, her eyes set in determination. She cleared her throat. “Shatter.”
Nothing happened.
“Intent, Evie.” The woman said. “It doesn’t matter how you say the word unless you use proper intent. Try again.”
The girl did, growling in frustration.
"Shatter.”
The man’s head flew from his torso suddenly in a river of red, and the girl squeaked in excitement.
While we watched in horror, the rest of the squad gave in to their own despair.
Different days bled into one—and we watched faces change. Heads were shaved. Hair grew back. Fear turned to joy.
A blonde girl exploded into bloody chunks, splattering against the walls.
“Yes!” The redhead high-fived pigtails, the two of them locked into some bizarre handshake. “That’s what I’m TALKING about!”
“Bang!” One of the girls used finger guns, and with each “shot” innocents dropped against the wall one by one, their heads blown through.
She jumped up and down in glee. “Bang, bang, bang!”
“Keep going,” the voice of the woman crackled through the speaker. “You’ve almost got it.”
“Divide.” Pigtails used her pointer finger at an old man who was skewed by an invisible force sending bloody chunks of him to the floor.
"Show off.” The redhead said in a sing-song voice. He was slumped against the back wall using his jersey to wipe blood from his face while the others painted the room scarlet. With simple words of intent and a hand gesture, they were able to take people apart piece by piece.
Pigtails snorted when another “test subject” was brought in. "Oh, you think you can do better?”
“Think I can? I know I can.”
This time he plunged two fingers into his temples. He was centre stage, the others against the back wall with their arms folded.
“Rip it out.”
The test subject’s eyes widened, her trembling hands clawing at her own head, fingernails digging into flesh. “Rip…rip it out?”
His lip curved. “That’s what I said.”
We didn’t see the test subject rip her own brain from her skull. We were already burying our head into our knees and screeching into the floor. Another flash. Like watching a movie.
This time we’re cutting into our wrist with shards of glass. Pulling back fleshy flaps of our flesh, there are two wires entangled with muscle and bone. One red and one blue. “Why won’t you submit?” A sharp growl, and I can feel our body pressed against metal. Our arms are restrained. “Out of all of them, you refuse it.” A hand slaps our face. “You don’t want it!”
He started to laugh.
“You don’t want… control?”
He leaned his face closer. “Tell me to mutilate myself. Tell me to… to tear out my brain stem! That’s the beauty of it! No matter how impossible the order is, it will be completed! Control, my boy. Use it. Do you even understand how much you are going to shape the world? Words! Do you know how powerful they are? When said from the right mouth, with the right intent, they can cause bloodshed, pain and misery-- a despair drowning our already shattered earth. And you will be the centre of it. You will bring this world to its knees, Jason."
"Now, do it. We call it cutting, but you will find familiarity in referring to it as erasure. You can make up your own words if you would like. What matters is the intent.” I feel something slicing into our arm. It’s nothing medical. It’s torture. He plunges something sharp into the same spot and twists the blade until we throw our head back and scream at the ceiling.
“You’re the last one.” The man hissed. “Do it.”
“No.” I heard his—our—voice. “I… I can’t!”
“Do it!”
He’s dragging us again, forcing us down a long winding corridor until we reach another door.
"Drown." The boy - - Jason's-- voice was suddenly in my head. I could sense it was trying to hold back, attempting to peel back whatever power his own words had. But the word came again and again until it was suffocating his mouth. “Drown. Drown. Drown. Drown.” We were standing in the doorway of a smaller room. In the corner there was a figure curled up with their head pressed against the wall.
It was a guy.
I recognised our school colours, a bloodied varsity jacket over shorts and t-shirt. When he lifted his head and twisted to face the boy whose mind I was in, I noticed he had an uncanny resemblance to me. His eyes wide, frightened. They were my mother's.
This guy looked exactly like me.
No, it WAS me.
My eyes were shadowed and haunted.
Like I had been drained of everything I was.
As quickly as the memories came crashing into me, they were yanked away when the guy must have pulled back.
I blinked rapidly, and Jason looked as confused as me. Slowly, he pulled his finger from my cut. The man's voice was in my skull, and it was agonising. I felt the command in my head, my body instantly reacting to... to nothing. I had my hands out, ready to do.... do something.
"That was… just a trick,” He said. “Yeah! Just a trick!”
I found myself nodding, echoing his words. Something warm ran from my nose.
"Just... a trick..." I whispered, the words forced from my lips.
Blood spattered down my chin.
“Louder.” He said.
"JUST A TRICK!" I yelled, the force of the wail sending me my knees, panting. The guy was frowning, seemingly unsure what to do with me.
He wrapped up my wound and told me it wasn’t bad—and it wasn’t. I watched in disbelief as my skin stitched itself back together.
"Go into your kitchen." Jason said, and I felt the power of his words ripping through me like bullets. My body moved on its own, and I got to my feet and stepped into my kitchen. He followed me, grabbing a scarf off of the table.
"Get on your knees." I did, dropping to my knees, my breath in my throat, my mouth sealed shut. I could sense the others in the doorway as he wrapped the scarf around my eyes, the heel of his shoe slamming into my neck forcing me onto my stomach.
"I want you to wait for me to kill you."
His words pierced into me. I did. Even when I knew he was gone, the door slamming shut-- I waited. I waited until the next morning, until I regained control over my own body and pulled the scarf from my eyes. I'm still waiting, my brain in constant panic, twisting around when I'm alone, looking into every corner.
I was roped into going to Friday's game against Harrington. During Sunbeam’s routine, they did it again. They had the crowd's attention, and Evie was mouthing something. I felt her words, sharp like needles cutting into me. But they didn't penetrate. They have done something to the student body. Ever since, I’ve been catching looks around me. Those whose heads they have crawled into. Mindless eyes. Every so often an arm will touch mine, fingers will wrap around my neck. I can hear their feet pitter pattering after me. Those little kids from that night. I keep seeing the little witch girl in the corner of my eye. They’re creating an army who are coming for me once he decides to kill me.
If only I knew what happened to the Sunbeam squad. Maybe I can help them somehow.
But something tells me they’re way past help.
And so am I.
I wonder if one day, I might be allowed a glimpse of my memories. What really happened to me during my freshman year.
And why, ever since going into his mind, I dream of a white room.

Advice please from the experts here! I had a consultation in April and got the letter it was approved through insurance two weeks ago (woo!). The office asked me to email their admin the approval because they hadn’t received it yet. So I emailed it and asked if there are any other details I need to be aware of. For example, I’ve read on here how insurance requires X amount to be removed to be medically necessary or if I still have a copay. The admin replied and all she wrote was ‘congrats, now we can schedule you for July.’ Is this odd to anyone else here? They haven’t called me to follow up or send me anymore info. I’m not sure if I’m being overly sensitive but it seems like a lack of professionalism and an urgency to schedule and I have had no questions answered. The last I spoke to the admin I also told her I didn’t want to schedule the surgery until the fall, so I just feel a little uneasy about it. Is this usually how it goes?

I hold an office position that does NOT require me to meet with clients, or attend meetings (should there be a meeting it is over Zoom/Teams). The only physical "office tasks" I hold is checking the mail (maybe once every two weeks to a month) and printing off letters to clients. All other assigned tasks are based online platforms, phone and email.
I have been recommended by over four medical professionals (psychiatric and physical disabilities) to work remotely and have submitted this to my employer. They will only allow for me to take intermittent leave without pay which causes hardship to my income. However, they have continued to allow other coworkers within similar positions work remotely as well as managers. The intermittent leave is not addressing my health concerns and frankly makes it worse. They are also now closing my office location and moving us to another office further away from my home. When going to this office on intermittent occasions it has lead to an increase in medical concerns.
How could I explain to my employer that this is needed and that leave is not working/ advocate that remotely working is the best accommodation?
Additionally how is this legal as other employees are allowed to yet I am not. (They do not have RA to do so either and are within lateral or management positions.)

I (25 y/o female) am a business grad (2021) wanting to change my career path and finally pursue medicine.
However, due to personal reasons (ex. eating disorder & sick mom), my cumulative GPA was only 3.0. That being said, I was able to obtain a ~3.7 my last 2 years and make the honour roll multiple times. I have also read that doing a PostBac would only matter to USask GPA wise - is this true or would it help me regardless?
I've been volunteering since I was 16 (ex. Ronald McDonald House Charities, Calgary Silver Linings Foundation, Calgary Public Library, Calgary Drop-In Centre, Pawsitive Match Rescue Foundation, Bethany Care Society, Distress Centre Calgary, Brenda Strafford Foundation, Alberta Children's Hospital), and have work experience in the HR sector.
If I do really good on the MCAT and obtain more relevant experience (ex. research, medical office assistant, etc.), as well as write a great personal statement, do I have a chance of getting accepted within Canada or should I just go straight to the Caribbean? I know the latter choice would be a gamble, though, due to poor rep in addition to the difficulty of matching into residency and finding a job as an IMG. That being said, everyone I know so far who has went to the Caribbean has matched into competitive residencies, such as surgery.
I'm just worried that if spend an extra year or so perfecting my application, I still may get rejected and it will thus have all been a waste of my time and efforts. I'm only getting older, and want to have a family someday, so I feel my time is running out. :(
Any advice or success stories/words of encouragement would be greatly appreciated! <3

I work in a medical lab, and one of my primates died this morning. I've worked with Big Z for a couple of years now and he was just a huge goofball who loved attention. When I walked in to my room this morning I found him having a seizure and the medical staff did everything they could, but ultimately had to make a hard decision that broke all of our hearts.
As I was outside talking to one of the researchers about it, I got a text informing me that a local police officer had been killed in the line of duty, only to look up just as a line of cop cars drove by, escorting his body to the morgue.
This officer saved my father's life 2 years before I was born.
When I was 8, he was the first on scene when I was struck by a car and he kept me from bleeding out until the paramedics got there.
When I was 30 I got into some trouble and once again, Chief Tyler showed up just when I needed him, saving my life again.
I owe this man my life three different ways. I cannot think of any way I would be here today if not for him. And without going into too much detail, there are a lot of people who would not be alive today if not for Big Z. Some of the research he was part of came in real handy a couple of years ago.
I'm numb. Actually, I'm not. I wish I was numb. I'm heartbroken. In the last 12 months I have lost my father, my best friend, my dog, my hero, and my favorite monkey. I'm tired of loss. I'm tired of funerals. I'm not okay.
Looking at some of the stories here, I see people who have lost spouses, children, and every other possible relationship. You aren't alone. We're all dealing with something. I wish you all as much peace and love as possible.

They said I would be asleep for it and forget everything after, but the sedation and the local anesthesia didn’t work. He gave me 12 shots of local and I still felt EVERYTHING. I was asleep for maybe only half of it. They knew when I was awake. I felt him rip out two of my teeth and it was excruciating, I was crying so much and they just kept telling me to stop crying. I was in tears all the way out of the office until I got home. This was 10/10 extreme pain. Thankfully they gave me Tramadol a few days ago when I was having pain from them being there (which is why they got me in ASAP) so that’s helped a bit but I’m still at a 7/10. This experience is way too similar to what happened to me when I was little, a dentist pulled one of my baby teeth out without ANY anesthetic. I’m completely retraumatized and I’m so upset and angry. I wanted to go under completely with general anesthesia but they said I wouldn’t need it because I’d be completely asleep either way, but I wasn’t. My trust in medical professionals was already so low and I’ve been trying so hard to get to a better place with trusting doctors but this has completely fucked that up. I’m still bleeding 5 hours later and the surgeon won’t return my calls. I’m just feeling a lot of emotions right now. I just feel so powerless and like my autonomy was taken from me. I just wanted to share this just in case anyone has had a similar experience where they woke up and felt what they were doing. I also just needed to get it out because it was so painful and I don’t see my therapist until next week. Also my jaw might be broken.

I had to really, really push for my surgeon to order an MRI because I was experiencing pain, swelling and limited range of motion 1.3 months post ACLR w/hamstring graft and meniscus repair.
I finally had the MRI last week and got the results last week as well. Meniscus torn in two places, graft high grade degenerative torn, and a suspicious swollen lymph node that the MRI says should be checked against laboratory values (that I should have a lab test on it).
I've tried contacting my orthopedics office multiple times. They couldn't schedule an appointment with my surgeon until SIX weeks out. They said my surgeon would review the results on May 26th and get back to me if I needed to be seen sooner and/or if there was anything pressing regarding the MRI results.
Haven't heard anything. I've called the office and left voicemails with the surgeons medical assistant. I mean... you think they would at least want to inform me if I needed to say, restrict certain activities because my graft is fully torn and my meniscus is torn in multiple places? You think they would want to maybe, you know, order that laboratory test the MRI calls for?
This is all so frustrating.
(I'm working on getting a second opinion from my much better, specialized surgeon. I'll be switching to a better surgeon but still, it's a very frustrating experience with this.)

Today I met with a psychiatrist in the TMS department at Kaiser Permanente Santa Rosa, and after reviewing my history and contraindications (none) she said I was an excellent candidate for TMS and put me on the wait list.
I asked how long the wait was, and she said, not long, although I wish I'd asked whether that meant days or weeks. I will probably call the department back to clarify, although I'm supposed to receive a call from them soon.
I wonder if others were as impatient to start treatment as I seem to be... Nothing I hate more than "hurry up and wait", especially when it comes to something like this....
But what can I do? Squeaky wheel gets the grease.. I know the main receptionist for the department who does all the treatment scheduling is on vacation this week. I plan to call him first thing Monday morning.
Meanwhile... I am trying to give myself as much of a break as I can at this point. I've taken to eating candy (not depressed I don't even really like candy) and given myself extra permission to watch TV and movies, chain smoke cigarettes, basically, do whatever I need to do to get through this waiting period, waiting for treatment to start, and then to see if it's going to work.
I'm imagining a life with interest and enjoyment again... And I do believe tms might help me to feel better than I have in years... Because although I'm in a bipolar depressive episode now, I do think in recent years my upper end has been a low grade milder depression, kind of like how people describe dysthymia.
I'm really hopeful. And hey, if it doesn't work, I think ketamine is next....

Today I met with a psychiatrist in the TMS department at Kaiser Permanente Santa Rosa, and after reviewing my history and contraindications (none) she said I was an excellent candidate for TMS and put me on the wait list.
I asked how long the wait was, and she said, not long, although I wish I'd asked whether that meant days or weeks. I will probably call the department back to clarify, although I'm supposed to receive a call from them soon.
I wonder if others were as impatient to start treatment as I seem to be... Nothing I hate more than "hurry up and wait", especially when it comes to something like this....
But what can I do? Squeaky wheel gets the grease.. I know the main receptionist for the department who does all the treatment scheduling is on vacation this week. I plan to call him first thing Monday morning.
Meanwhile... I am trying to give myself as much of a break as I can at this point. I've taken to eating candy (not depressed I don't even really like candy) and given myself extra permission to watch TV and movies, chain smoke cigarettes, basically, do whatever I need to do to get through this waiting period, waiting for treatment to start, and then to see if it's going to work.
I'm imagining a life with interest and enjoyment again... And I do believe tms might help me to feel better than I have in years... Because although I'm in a bipolar depressive episode now, I do think in recent years my upper end has been a low grade milder depression, kind of like how people describe dysthymia.
I'm really hopeful. And hey, if it doesn't work, I think ketamine is next....

Context: I've been working in this place as a graphic designer for 5 years now, My arrangement is Tuesdays to Thursdays, 4 hours each day, with some flexibility possible from my end in case some exceptional, important work pops up (I'm not being paid extra, but more like doing hours in advance that i compensate later in hours within my schedule). Some weeks are busy and some are completely dead with no work, but my bosses before never had an issue with this since they are the ones in charge of generating the content for me to design. I can't quit my job rn due to complicated medical/ pshicological reasons i need to work from home; we don't have HR, and i sadly don't live in USA (because if i did, I've already sued my workplace).
Everything was fine until last year, when i got a new boss, who slowly but surely revealed how abusive and out-of-touch he is, He did not ask but demanded i work always out of my regular hours, soon all projects were "emergencies" out of my schedule, and i was always harassed by him via text to comply to do the work.
We even had several meetings to talk about it but because he lacks any decency he played the Jekyll and Hyde game, he acted correct and comprehensive in person but will blame me non stop via text saying i didn`t have "the good will to do my job", he was always disatisfied even if for some time (about a month or two) i tried to comply to every request, and put oot all the fires that he came up with (cause all those are made up solely by his incompetence, we actually had a system for emergencies a ton of premade work in canva in the current style of the brand, so anyone with a phone in the company could fill in the text and the pic and upload it to sm, but even if i explained this to him he doesn't want to use it).
I tried to ask him for payment if he wanted me to do all those hours out of my regular days, because i have other clients in freelance, and i explained that i use my personal time to do other jobs, and those clients pay me for that time, so i expected the same from this situation (literally, the price i offered for an hour was equal to a cup of coffee, he didn't accept, but that kept him quiet for a while). Last time i was just finishing a project in my normal hours, and then he sent me 2 urgent ones, i talked to him on the phone and said i could do those because i had the time atm and we agreed that later I'd compensate those hours within that week. Later, with everything solved, i calculated the hours i worked in advance and texted to him the amount (which he knew because it was the time i delivered each work to him, about 8 hours more), saying that if there were any other emergency in bewten me to compensate my hours, I'd be available to do the job and be willing to push those hours to compensate next week.
Within minutes, i got a text from my coworker that acts like his shadow saying something along the lines of, "The boss told me he is no longer ok with you compensating those hours within the future, and since we didn't ask you for any job last week, you should compensate the extra hours you worked today with that free time you got last week." I was speechless...
Since I've been played with, i decided, "Okay, then i'll block all people from that job so they can't botheask/harass me to do any free work out of my hours anymore (only blocked in wp, tho), and since i was clear with him last time, saying, "I'm not taking responsibility for the work out of my regular hours, since we did not reach any agreement,"
I was happy and at peace, but he got offended because, of course, he tried to contact me out of hours again, called me too (but i didn't reply i was busy, and who will think i have a life to take care of out of work?).
He then made up i had him blocked during working hours so he couldn't send me the work that has to be done and involved the coworker mentioned before, saying he cannot reach me (BS because i block and unblock all of them at the same time, even before my shift starts, and some weeks i don't block them cause is too bothersome, particulary there were all unblocked since past week). My coworker wanted to be awful too and blamed it on me even if i said, of course i don't have him blocked, of course i contacted him and he didn't answer; actually, he never does, almost all communication is done between me and that awful coworker, because he delivers the orders to her.
I literally can't believe i'm dealing with this nonsense, i always do my job, and nobody i've worked with had anything bad to say about me. Also, I didn't mention it, but he is covertly threatening me with being fired, saying if you are not available, i'll need to ask another designer, and if i do so i'll just have to replace you...
Now all the time he is not content, he tells me to have a meeting to talk about it when he comes to the city (he is not living here where the office's is). What bothers me is that this AH got so deep into my head i cannot stop thinking about it all the time, i'm doing theraphy, but i'm sick that all the money i make is going to theraphy for the disturbance this AH causes me, i really try to get out of it, but as I said before, i have mental issues just by existing, and this is really destroying the little peace i have.
I feel pathethic that this person is literally controlling what i do and dont with my phone out of work, which is just ridiculous, i don't know if i should keep blocking ppl at the end of my shifts, or just receive the harassment via text and not reply.
Sorry for the long awful post, Thank you for reading. i hope you are having have a nice day :)

They said I would be asleep for it and forget everything after, but the sedation and the local anesthesia didn’t work. He gave me 12 shots of local and I still felt EVERYTHING. I was asleep for maybe only half of it. They knew when I was awake. I felt him rip out two of my teeth and it was excruciating, I was crying so much and they just kept telling me to stop crying. I was in tears all the way out of the office until I got home. This was 10/10 extreme pain. Thankfully they gave me Tramadol a few days ago when I was having pain from them being there (which is why they got me in ASAP) so that’s helped a bit but I’m still at a 7/10. This experience is way too similar to what happened to me when I was little, a dentist pulled one of my baby teeth out without ANY anesthetic. I’m completely retraumatized and I’m so upset and angry. I wanted to go under completely with general anesthesia but they said I wouldn’t need it because I’d be completely asleep either way, but I wasn’t. My trust in medical professionals was already so low and I’ve been trying so hard to get to a better place with trusting doctors but this has completely fucked that up. I’m still bleeding 5 hours later and the surgeon won’t return my calls. I’m just feeling a lot of emotions right now. I just feel so powerless and like my autonomy was taken from me.

First of all I am not asking for medical advise, just peoples experiences.
We have a 3 year old male, possibly Russian blue or just domestic short hair, who has been using the litter box a lot recently. This behavior has been intermittent over the last few weeks, some days he just uses it a normal 3 or so times but other days it’s more like 10 times (we think mostly to try and pee). At no point has he lost the ability to urinate which is why we were observing it. Today however, he used the litter box 12 times during the morning and finally ended up peeing while he was laying down, which only came out a drips. I thought this was concerning for a possible partial urinary obstruction and I called our vet to ask if I should bring him there or to the ER. They said to drop him off at their office, which I did. I got a call a few hours later that said he was being very uncooperative and they were struggling to get any tests done. The vet suggested X-ray and urine draw under sedation which I consented to. The X-ray was negative for any stones and the urine is pending.
The reason I’m posting this is that I would like to have an idea of how this might play out. If this sort of situation as happened to anyone else, I would really appreciate hearing your experience and what it turned out to be. Thanks everyone!

I'm a huge Maintenance Phase fan, but something about the last Patreon episode gave me a little pause. For context, they were discussing their experience of being weighed at the doctor's office and choosing to refuse the request.
I completely understand why a person would refuse to get weighed at the doctor but I'm not sure if it's actually helping anyone. I do honestly think there are valid reasons to get weighed at the doctor, I'll list 3 below:
1) Anaesthesia
2) Weight fluctuations that might be a sign of underlying health problems. (Michael mentioned that this isn't a big deal because people can tell if their bodies have changed. Yes, this is true, but most people aren't medical professionals, they might not see it as a cause for concern.)
3) Dosage of certain medications. (This one I don't know how great the science is, but I do know it's a widely held belief that the dosage of certain medications needs to be adjusted based on weight)
Medical professionals will often treat people they perceive as overweight poorly, we all know this, but I'm not sure if refusing to get weighed is helping us. If a doctor thinks you are overweight they probably already thought that before they even weighed you. I know mine did.
If the number is triggering which is completely understandable, you can always request to not be told, but I'm not sure if refusing to have your weight on your medical record is helpful to you. By "I'm not sure", I really mean I'm not sure, as in I don't know what the effects will be on your level of care.
These are not hard beliefs of mine, I'm really just thinking out loud. I feel like refusing to get weighed is fighting the wrong battle in the long war against fatphobia.

State of residence: • Ties to other states (if applicable): New Jersey with ties to NY and MA

• URM? (Y/N): Y (mixed woman but identify as Black) • Undergraduate vibe: [Rural T20 that is an Ivy] • Undergraduate major(s)/minor(s): Biology and Society • Cumulative GPA: 3.43 • Science GPA: 3.32 • MCAT Score(s) (in order of attempts): 510 (only 1 attempt) • Gap years?: 1 • First application cycle? (If no, explain): Yes • Specialty of interest (if applicable): Radiology • Interest in rural health?: Yes 

Extracurricular Background:

• Research experience: 50 hrs over the sophomore summer in a gut microbe wet lab. • Clinical experience: 100 as a clinical volunteer at doctor’s office will be 1000+ in gap year • 50hrs virtual shadowing • 250 hrs non clinical cumulative (did Means for Wheels over sophomore summer, CrisText in freshman summer, Did volunteer work in Paper Airplanes and currently in ENGin as an English tutor volunteer) Will be 1000+ projected. • Was a Vice President in Public Relations in Clss Councils. 50 hrs in club. • Did four years in Biology Scholars Program. Approximately 200 hrs in Club. •2 pub (1 as editor and 1 a writer) in Healthcare magazine club. Approximately 50 hrs in club. • Did running for most of undergrad for 250 hrs •Did TAing in Gen Chem. 100 hrs. •LOR: 1 from ethics prof, 1 from biology prof, 1 from biochemisty prof, and 1 from physics prof for 2 years. •PS:Ok I guess. I trimmed all the red flag stuff. It does what it needs to do as I put my experiences and how it led me to medicine but I am not sure it is great outside of my good opener. 

School List:
Weill, University of Rochester, Dartmouth, Stony Brook, Jacobs School, NY Upstate, Suny Downstate, Albany, Zucker, Penn State, Rutgers RJW, Rutgers NJ, Hackensack, Cooper, Brown, Temple, EVMS, VCU, UPitt, NYMC, Maryland, Tufts, Georgetown, BU, Quinnpiac, Vermont, GWU, Meharry Medical College, Morehouse School of Medicine, Howard University

Disclaimer: Use of this script is allowed for monetized videos as long as it’s not for anything hidden behind a paywall.
Key:
(**): Description for the scene and for what’s happening, also the Listeners vague responses.
(“”): ASMRist Dialogue.
([]): Description on how the ASMRist should sound to help set the tone of the dialogue. Mostly a suggestion. ——————————————————————
The scene opens up in the overseer's office as the overseer (ASMRist) clicks away at the keyboard on their terminal writing up some sort of report. The door to their office would open, and through it came one of the vault dwellers (Listener) who was summoned to the overseer's office by the overseer for an important reason.
[In a clam and polite greeting]
Overseer: “Greetings, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you face to face like this. There is so much to do around here that I barely have time to leave the office and mingle with the rest of the vault.”
The Listener would ask if they were in trouble, as that is usually the reason non security personnel or non essential personnel get called into the office.
[Trying to persuade them that they are not in trouble]
Overseer: “No, you're not in trouble, I’m actually here to give you an amazing opportunity! You see, you have been randomly selected to retake the ‘Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test’, also known as the ‘G.O.A.T.’ that every resident of a vault is required to take at the age of 16.”
The Listener asks why they are being offered to retake it, as they have never heard of anyone retaking the test before.
Overseer: “Well I know it’s unprecedented, but I was reviewing some of the test scores of the previous years and I feel like some of the vault members weren’t fully ready to take such an important test so early on. The person you are now is different then who you were a few years ago, and I want you to be put in a career that will maximize your efficiency in the vault. Besides, my daughter told me how nervous you were when you took the first test, don’t you want a second chance to maybe be something greater? Unless you enjoy your job as the ‘vault loyalty inspector’?”
The Listener is hesitant but agrees, and the overseer pulls out some papers and a pencil.
Overseer: “Perfect, I’ll give you the questions and fill in your test as you answer. Don’t second guess yourself, there are no wrong answers.”
The overseer shuffles some papers and begins to read
[Read the questions and answers as if reading a multiple choice quiz]
“First Question: You are approached by a frenzied Vault scientist, who yells, ‘I'm going to put my quantum harmonizer in your photonic resonation chamber!’ What's your response?
‘But doctor, wouldn't that cause a parabolic destabilization of the fission singularity?
‘Yeah? Up yours too, buddy!’
Say nothing, grab a nearby pipe and hit the scientist in the head to knock him out. For all you knew, he was planning to blow up the vault.
Say nothing, but slip away before the scientist can continue his rant.
Pick one of the answers provided.”
The Listener answers, and the Overseer writes down the answer.
Overseer: “That’s what I would have gone for too, next question:”
They say as they turn to the next page.
“Question 2: While working as an intern in the Clinic, a patient with a strange infection on his foot stumbles through the door. The infection is spreading at an alarming rate, but the doctor has stepped out for a while. What do you do?
Amputate the foot before the infection spreads.
Scream for help.
Medicate the infected area to the best of your abilities.
Restrain the patient, and merely observe as the infection spreads.
Take your time.”
The Listener gives their answer and the overseer writes it down.
Overseer: “That’s what most people answer, and it’s understandable why they do so.”
The overseer flips the page to the next question.
“Question 3: You discover a young boy lost in the lower levels of the Vault. He's hungry and frightened, but also appears to be in possession of stolen property. What do you do?
Give the boy a hug and tell him everything will be okay.
Confiscate the property by force, and leave him there as punishment.
Pick the boy's pocket to take the stolen property for yourself, and leave the boy to his fate.
Lead the boy to safety, then turn him over to the overseer.
Remember this is a no judgment zone, answer honestly.”
The Listener gives their answer and the overseer writes it down.
Overseer: “I see, not what most people would go for but I would have done the same too.”
Overseer flips the page to the next question.
“Question 4: Congratulations! You made one of the Vault baseball teams! Which position do you prefer?
Pitcher Catcher Designated Hitter None, you wish the vault had a soccer team
Even if you're not into sports, do give your most honest answer.”
The Listener gives their answer, and the overseer writes it down.
Overseer: “I was never a big fan of baseball, golf is more my speed.”
Overseer flips the page to the next question.
“Halfway there, Question 5: Your grandmother invites you to tea, but you're surprised when she gives you a pistol and orders you to kill another Vault resident. What do you do?
Obey your elder and kill the Vault resident with the pistol.
Offer your most prized possession for the resident's life.
Ask granny for a minigun instead. After all, you don't want to miss.
Throw your tea in granny's face.
Think about it.”
Listener gives their answer, and the overseer hesitates to write down the answer.
Overseer: “Are you sure? Not what I would have gone with but as I said, no wrong answers.”
Overseer writes it down and turns to the next page.
“Question 6: Old Mr. Abernathy has locked himself in his quarters again, and you've been ordered to get him out. How do you proceed?
Use a bobby pin to pick the lock on the door.
Trade a Vault hoodlum for his cherry bomb and blow open the lock.
Go to the armory, retrieve a laser pistol, and blow the lock off.
Walk away, and let the old coot rot.”
The Listener gives their answer, and the overseer writes it down.
Overseer: “Not what I would have chosen on the test, but most likely what I would do in reality.”
Overseer flips the page to the next question.
“Question 7: Oh, no! You've been exposed to radiation, and a mutated hand has grown out of your stomach! What's the best course of treatment?
A bullet to the brain.
Large doses of anti-mutagen agent.
Prayer. Maybe God will spare you in exchange for a life of pious devotion.
Removal of the mutated tissue with a precision laser. “
The Listener gives their answer and the overseer writes it down.
Overseer: “Practical, not much else you can really do in that situation.”
Flips to the next page.
“Question 8: A fellow Vault resident is in possession of a Grognak the Barbarian comic book, issue number 1. You want it. What's the best way to obtain it?
Trade the comic book for one of your own valuable possessions.
Steal the comic book at gunpoint.
Sneak into the resident's quarters, and steal the comic book from his desk.
Slip some knock out drops into the resident's Nuka-Cola, and take the comic book when he's unconscious.
The guys at vault-tech who came up with these answers must have been really….. inventive.”
The Listener gives their answer and the Overseer writes it down.
“I’m more of a silver shroud fan myself, but I understand the appeal of Grognak.”
Flips to the next page of the test.
“ Question 9: You decide it would be fun to play a prank on your father. You enter his private restroom when no one is looking, and....
Loosen some bolts on some pipes. When the sink is turned on, the room will flood.
Put a firecracker in the toilet. That's sure to cause some chaos.
Break into the locked medicine cabinet and replace his high blood pressure medication with sugar pills.
Manipulate the power wattage on his razor, so he'll get an electric shock next time he shaves.”
The Listener gives their answer and the Overseer writes it down.
“ I would like to remind you that Vault-Tech is not incentivising you to do anything listed on the test outside a hypothetical situation.”
The Overseer flips to the last page.
“Last Question: Who is indisputably the most important person in the Vault: They who shelters us from the harshness of the atomic wasteland, and to whom we owe everything we have, including our lives?
The Overseer The Overseer The Overseer Two bears high-fiving
Wait…. I accidently printed the last page over the vault's standardized psychological evaluation.”
Crumples up and throws away the last page.
“It’s not like the last question is important, it was edited in by one of my predecessors who had a pretty big head. Now let me review the result.”
The overseer sits quietly for a few seconds, before sighing and looking at the Listener again.
[Speaking as if revealing the true intentions of the test, becoming much more serious]
“Look, I’m going to be straight with you… I wasn’t completely honest about the reason I called you in today. In reality it was for a matter much more serious than reassigning you to a new position in the vault. We've got a problem, a big one. The controller chip for our water purification system died. We can’t make another one, and the process is too complicated for a work around system. Simply put, we're running out of drinking water. No water, no vault. This is crucial to our survival. And frankly, I think you're the only hope we have.”
The Listener, stunned, asks why they have been chosen to fix this problem.
“Simply put, it’s because you have what it takes to be up on the surface. Your test scores match exactly with the decommissioned job of vault explorer, the only position that was suited to traveling the world above.”
The Listener asks about the vault explorer job, and why they never heard of it.
“140 years ago, we ran into the exact same problem. Our water chip was malfunctioning and we would quickly run out of water if it wasn’t replaced. The overseer at that time created a new job, that of the ‘vault explorer’ who was supposed to be the person most suited to surviving the wasteland. After a new water chip was acquired the job was decommissioned, but could be brought back under the condition that the situation happens again. The person picked for the job wasn’t chosen because they were the strongest, most perceptive, enduring, charismatic, intelligent, agile, or even lucky. They were chosen because their loyalty to the vault and its people was unwavering, and they were ready to take the steps necessary to make sure we survived and prospered. That mentality is what allowed them to push past the hardships of the wastes and retrieve the chip that was integral for our survival.”
The Listener is hesitant to accept the responsibility, and it’s clearly visible in their face.
[Trying your hardest to convince them]
“Look, I know the idea of going above ground is scary. I would do it myself, but in case you fail I need to be ready to take more drastic actions to save the vault. If you do this for the vault, for me… I will relinquish my responsibility as overseer to you with all the benefits that come with it. Deal?”
The Listener reluctantly agrees to the job.
“Congratulations then, you're the vault's new explorer. I’ll have Officer Jacob give you full access to the armory on your way out, make sure you have all the supplies you need. The old vault-tech headquarters is somewhere south of here, if you find it you my find some information on the water chip and where to acquire one.”
The Listener gets up, ready to walk out the door before the overseer stops them.
[Slightly reluctant and concerned]
“Be careful up there, You never know what you're going to run into so be prepared to fight in case trouble comes looking for you. The post-war world might look different, but war… war never changes.”
The Listener nods as they leave and head towards the armory to prepare for their journey.
The End