Hi all,
I moved to the US 8 years ago as a dependent of my dad, and I’ve been studying there on my H4 VISA ever since. I just finished my first year of my Bachelor’s in the US and I came to India early this May to change my VISA status to an F1 so I could be eligible for internships in the future, and because my H4 VISA expired. I flew to India so early on because at the time of booking my plane tickets, I wasn’t sure of my F1 interview date yet. My interview is coming up soon; however, this past month has weighed heavily on me in terms of health complications. I have a frail body and my immune system is compromised. Since I’m not used to the environment in India, this has caused my health to deteriorate rapidly; this is the worst my health has gotten in the past 8 years. I’m experiencing a lot of side effects with Indian medications as well since I’m not used to them. The earliest I can enter the states is July 22nd but frankly, I don’t think I can last in India in a healthy state until then as I haven’t been showing signs of getting better. I also have a preexisting condition I’m really worried about. Is there any way I could get back to the US sooner to take care of my health? Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Might seem like a weird question, but ya. Just lmk.
Grandpa/Grandma: Immigrants. Grandpa was traumatized by war bc his village was burnt down or something and his mom was attacked in front of him. It was gross. He fled with my grandma to the states. He had a successful business but was a severe alcoholic and was extremely angry/abusive towards everyone. Grandma just cried a lot and never stopped cooking.
Other- Grandpa's siblings all died, but they had kids. Some are doing fine, but some either killed themselves or overdosed. -
-
My aunts/uncles and their kids(who are now adults, unless otherwise stated)
Btw, all of the cousins have anxiety severe enough that they need Xanax at the minimum.
Unit 1: Aunt is an investment banker and severe alcoholic. She was investigated by CPS but they eventually dropped it. Her kids/my cousins (8, 15) have panic attacks and anger issues regularly. When she's mad they hide.
Unit 2: Uncle is on a lot of Xanax to calm down. He does well, professionally. As a kid my grandpa regularly bust open his lips. One of his kids is a genius (IQ over 145), went to a competitive medical school, but then got addicted to painkillers and had a mental breakdown, and then staged a pretend wedding. The other child fled to the other part of the country, and is doing fine, even though they ignore everyone. The other child was neglected pretty severely and cut himself, abused drugs and had to go to a troubled teen camp, and then molested another one of the cousins.
Unit 3: Aunt is wealthy and doesn't do much. She has pretty severe anger issues. One of her kids is really quiet and is often dazed. The other became a severe alcoholic but is now fine.
Unit 4: Uncle is also wealthy and does not do much. He has obscure interests and used to have severe anger issues as well, and was criticized for being a tiger parent (ignored his child if she didn't perform for long periods of time, extreme mood swings). His child was molested by the other cousin. She developed multiple dependencies on drugs and dated horrible people. She has a good job now and is doing fine.

"For nearly 56 years, state lawmakers, county officials and probate judges have rejected plans to overhaul the structure of and increase funding for Maine’s county probate courts...don’t have sufficient budgets or employees to consistently screen, train or monitor the guardians...plenty of instances of that kind of exploitation...most people...are in a...institution...in some states, the probate courts have investigators...bed bugs...missing his insulin and glucometer." https://themainemonitor.org/vulnerable-people-may-be-at-risk-in-maines-part-time-probate-courts/
​
"I am sick of sending the message to my son that there is something 'wrong' with him, something that needs to be fixed...My child is a person, not a meal ticket...why do I have to be called 'autistic' when I'm just me." https://honey.nine.com.au/latest/child-with-autism-confession-to-mother-following-therapy-session/7fa7c732-7696-457b-b354-335f70060dce
​
"where does psychosis end and 'real' mystical experience begin? here's a summary of Philip K. Dick's 'highest truths'" https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=36051598
​
"A personality test can’t tell you who you are
​
The desire to define ourselves, from love languages to Myers-Briggs." https://www.vox.com/even-bette23743836/personality-test-identity-myers-briggs-horoscope-love-language
​
All Vermont cop cars will have softer restraints. Tight handcuffs they refused to adjust, dented my wrists in 2016. https://www.vermontpsychiatricsurvivors.org/newspapecounterpoint/
​
new york assemblymember edward braunstein wants to unconstitutionally poison non-violent people. https://www.gothamgazette.com/city/12038-legislation-mayor-adams-jordan-neely-intervention
​
"single psychotic symp-
toms occurred in a significant proportion of climbers, and
single endorsed items on the HAPSY-Q conveyed a possible
risk factor for near accidents." https://s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/eu-st01.ext.exlibrisgroup.com/39UBZ_INST/storage/alma/53/97/54/85/FE/D5/59/07/80/4A/7C/3D/B1/FE/9B/3B/ham.2020.0210.pdf%3Fresponse-content-disposition%3Dattachment%253B%2520filename%253D%2522ham.2020.0210.pdf%2522%253B%2520filename%252A%253DUTF-8%2527%2527ham.2020.0210.pdf%26response-content-type%3Dapplication%252Fpdf%26X-Amz-Algorithm%3DAWS4-HMAC-SHA256%26X-Amz-Date%3D20230604T094735Z%26X-Amz-SignedHeaders%3Dhost%26X-Amz-Expires%3D86399%26X-Amz-Credential%3DAKIAJN6NPMNGJALPPWAQ%252F20230604%252Feu-central-1%252Fs3%252Faws4_request%26X-Amz-Signature%3Daea6209a15c7a148e323a7660a5f1c60d0c32600e4830565d3c735b30c2bfa5e&ct=ga&cd=CAIyGmU2MzAwMjJjMGZlZTVhN2I6Y29tOmVuOlVT&usg=AOvVaw17jwlRMGDLgkg61usSEyWG
​
"Aiming to examine the mechanisms which influence (psychotic like experiences) proneness, our findings suggest that proneness to PLEs in people with interest in esoterism is specifically related to group affiliation to esoterism itself and not, on a broader level, to any supernatural „belief framework” including more traditionally and socio-culturally wide held beliefs, such as religious beliefs." https://link.springer.com/article/10.1186/s12888-023-04876-9
​
Should the british age of maturity, freedoms be 25? "Autistic adults are adults who have the right to autonomy and self-determination." - Dr. Alex Powell https://twitter.com/APowellLaw/status/1665329692142968841
​
swedish detective Backstrom season 1 episode 5, "How many days did you stay awake? Three days. I went psychotic I actually saw the boogeyman. They put me in a kid's psych ward for 6 weeks...People are not rational."
​
Accused (2023) season 1 episode 3 Danny's Story, similar to my parents poisoning foods 2016-2019. He wants to lab test oatmeal but I have photos. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kvr3f6N55QQ&pp=ygUVQWNjdXNlZCBEYW5ueSdzIFN0b3J5
British Stephen's Story 2012 https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=70HAR1oPUwU&pp=ygUUSmlybydzIFN0b3J5IEFjY3VzZWQ%3D ​
"10 Most Ridiculous Episodes in TV Medical Dramas...'Black Box' (2014) — "The Fear" (Season 1, Episode 12)...Dr. Catherine Black is a brilliant neurologist hiding her bipolar disorder from her colleagues...her medication stopped being effective...Buck firmly believes that the full moon brings chaos." https://collider.com/medical-drama-most-ridiculous-episodes-ranked/#39-9-1-1-39-2018--mdash-quot-full-moon-creepy-af-quot-season-1-episode-7
​
"video will aim to answer questions surrounding mass psychosis...witch hunts 16th and 17th centuries." https://www.resetera.com/threads/mass-psychosis-how-an-entire-population-becomes-mentally-ill.726165/
​
Podcast: Critical Psychology and Psychiatry with Eric Maisel. https://voicesinbioethics.podcasts.library.columbia.edu/podcast/critical-psychology-and-psychiatry-with-eric-maisel/

So I've been on 5mg for 3 months due to shortages, and my prescriber wouldn't jump me to 10mg when I couldn't get 7.5. The 5mg dose isn't doing much for me and I've been getting antsy about it as we get closer to coupon expiration dates (I still have until December, but I started in March so I'm trying to get my refills as quickly as possible).
Last month, after a few days of waiting for 7.5, I gave up and had my prescriber send in another rx for 5. When I went to pick it up, the pharmacist told me that if I had just held on another day or so she would have probably been able to snag a 7.5 for me since she had been keeping her eyes out for it. Mind you, I live in a major metropolitan area, but the pharmacy I use (inside a grocery chain) is smaller and not crazy busy like other ones.
This month, I once again attempted to get 7.5, fully expecting that I'd have to settle again for 5 after a few days of waiting. To my pleasant surprise, I received a text less than 24 hours after the prescription for 7.5 went in alerting me that it was ready for pickup. When I went to pick it up, the pharmacist asked if I needed any other scripts, and filled one for another medication for me while I waited. When I mentioned that I was shocked that they were able to get the 7.5, he told me that there was another patient that also requested it at the same time, but he knew I had been waiting so he filled mine. Oh, and he said that things seemed to be getting a little better in terms of availability so there's that.
I'm so heart warmed by this experience and grateful that I am using a pharmacy where most of the staff knows me by name and looks out for me. Just wanted to share.

Leave a bowl of water outside. Leave your old bred on your lawn. If you have a old mattress, carpet, nylon, building materials leftovers... call local rescue and donate. Many human medications is used on animals, antibiotics especially, if it is close to expiration date call your local rescue and donate. Look for a vet that helps street animals for free and use them, your cash will help more animals then just your own. ...
There is so many ways you can help that will cost you nothing. You can do more then you think.
Please, write such examples in the comments.

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First Previous
Memory Transcription Subject: Tresn, Arxur Defector
Date [Standard Human Reckoning]: 2136-10-22
After the encounter with the disdainful zurulian, Elangkasa led me to another section of the medical complex. We navigated through the makeshift path until we arrived at a building. The painted sign marked this as "Recovery Center".
Inside I found a hive of movement and noise. Humans filled the space and engaged in different activities meant to acclimate them to their prosthetic limbs. Sounds of encouragement and determination echoed in the room. A unique mix of scents filled the air, warm metal, the clinical smell of antiseptic, and the underlying current of human sweat.
One side of the room housed various forms of mobility training. Here, individuals learned to walk again, their new legs carrying them across varieties of terrains from flat platforms to uneven rocky surfaces, all designed to mimic real-world conditions. The patients stumbled, recovered, and started to find their footing.
In a separate section, people sat around tables with an array of tactile puzzles and dexterity tools strewn around. Their faces scrunched in concentration, brows furrowed and lips pursed as they manipulated small objects or practiced precise movements with their acquired hands. The mechanical digits moved with a jerky grace but grew more fluid with each passing moment. A chorus of patient encouragement followed the quiet clinks and clatters of dropped objects.
A human figure clad in the typical uniform of the facility came toward us. An intricate headgear on their head concealed their mane.
"Ah, is this the arxur?" My translator assigned her feminine voice. "Hi, I'm Ida."
"Hi Ida," Elangkasa shared a formal nod with the other human. "This is Tresn."
"Thanks, Coordinator," Ida responded with another nod. "I can handle it from here."
After a quick farewell, Elangkasa left me in the capable hands of Ida. I looked around the bustling hall, my gaze sweeping over the flurry of activity.
"So... this is where you train people to adapt to their new limbs?"
"Yeah. Do you have your prosthesis?" Ida inquired, her voice carrying a professional tone laced with underlying warmth.
"Sure," I responded, reaching for the bag slung over the back of my wheelchair. From its depths, I extracted the mechanical feet.
"Hmm, interesting. This doesn't resemble an arxur foot at all," Ida observed, her dark eyebrows arching as she scrutinized the unconventional prosthetic.
"Indeed, I drew inspiration from your planet's creatures," I replied, a hint of pride slipping into my tone. "You have a species related to your kind, yes? I believe they're referred to as monkeys?"
"I see..." Ida murmured, a thoughtful expression wrinkling her forehead. I felt a slight apprehension in her voice. "But can you control such a thing?"
"Watch this!" Excitement coursed through me as I manipulated the intricate prosthetic. With a flex of my thoughts, the prosthetic responded, the claws moving with surprising fluidity, much like an additional set of hand paws.
"Excellent!" Ida exclaimed, her face lighting up in a wide smile. She clapped her hands together.
With practiced ease, the human-assisted me in attaching the prostheses. She produced a sturdy belt, custom-made to secure the prostheses and ensure they stayed attached. As the weight of my body pressed onto the artificial limbs, I felt a dull throbbing at the ends of my stumps. The sensation felt odd, not quite pain, but rather, a constant reminder of the foreign appendages now attached to my body.
For starters, I had a simple exercise, designed to introduce my body to a new way of movement. I had to walk between two parallel bars. My arms took some of the weight as I grabbed the bar and attempted to maneuver my prosthetic feet. I tried to replicate my usual gait, letting the claws on my new limbs ripple and flex in what I hoped was a natural manner.
However, it became apparent that just manipulating the claws of my prostheses didn't suffice. I needed to master the motion of bending the wrist and ankle analogs, a detail I hadn't considered before. My first steps came out as awkward and clumsy, a far cry from the graceful movements I had imagined.
Our rehabilitation session continued until a sharp, persistent ache at the base of my stumps signaling me to stop. Back in my wheelchair again, I maneuvered my way to the comfort of my assigned habitation unit. With my friends engrossed in their volunteer duties, I only had myself. The silence in the room reminded me back when I had to stay hidden in the camp. In those quiet moments, my thoughts strayed to my predicament, wishing for a rapid recovery that would free me from my solitude and allow me to stand beside my companions, contributing to helping humans.
Amid my reflection, my mind wandered back to a previous interaction with a human acquaintance named Jagomerah. I remembered his offer to meet up if I ever found myself in Purwakarta, prompting me to revisit our old messages on social media.
"Hi there, Jagomerah," I initiated the conversation, my fingers tapping out the words on the screen. "I've made it to Purwakarta, Sector Twelve to be precise."
He sent a swift and enthusiastic response, "No way! Alright, meet me at Sector Ten's plaza at 16:00 then."
"Looking forward to it," I typed back, a flicker of anticipation sparking within me.
As the time neared the fifteenth hour, my human friends returned, their faces flush with the day's exertion. To pass the time while waiting for our remaining companions, we played a game of human cards.
Bolad and Vani appeared a half-hour later, their arrival completing our little circle. With everyone present, I proposed an expedition to Sector Ten and I was met with eager nods and enthusiastic agreement. Thus, our band of six ventured, weaving through the intricate maze of sectors within the camp. I met several arxur on my way, always giving me a look of disapproval. Upon reaching the bustling plaza of Sector Ten, I shot a quick message to Jagomerah, notifying him of our arrival. It didn't take long for our gaze to meet each other.
To my surprise, Snop already knew this Jagomerah person. She referred to him as a "scalie", an apparent misnomer given the absence of any discernible scales on his skin.
A sharp voice cut off our introduction. "Have you no shame?" The words came from the female arxur who had been standing behind Jagomerah. Her eyes glared at me with a chilling reproof. "Wasting resources like this, when others are clinging to life."
Jagomerah, the human with a mane of untamed curls, turned back to meet Lovaz's scathing gaze. "What are you talking about?" he asked. His voice was a gruff contrast to her icy disdain.
With an indignant huff, Lovaz gestured at me, her clawed hand sweeping in my direction. "Look at him! He's nothing more than a drain on society now."
"Lovaz," Jagomerah said in a stern voice. The curly-maned human squared his shoulders and met the arxur's gaze with unwavering defiance. "What do you do to an injured arxur?"
"We do nothing." She snapped, her tail lashing with irritation. "It is the responsibility of the impaired to stop being a burden to our society."
"In human society, it's the responsibility of the society to care for the impaired," Jagomerah retorted, his dark eyes never leaving Lovaz's.
"This weakness," Lovaz spat out the word with such venom, "is why all this happened to you, human."
Jagomerah's gaze hardened. With a swift movement of his left arm, he pulled his armband aside, revealing a metallic ring. His fingers moved over the surface of his arm, found a hidden latch, and with a quick twist, the arm detached. The purpose of his armband became clear to me in that instant. The fabric covered the prosthetic limb's attachment point.
"See this?" Jagomerah held up his detached arm. "This hand can crush your windpipe. Not so weak now, huh?"
Modern arxurs only understood the language of strength and violence. From what I had learned about humans, a display like Jagomerah's could escalate into a fight. Yet the arxur woman just chuckled, her sharp teeth gleaming in a predatory grin. "Okay… I see your point."
"Hey...Tresn wasn't it?" Jagomerah said, his voice had a note of regret in it. I inclined my head in response. "I must apologize for my earlier suspicion."
I looked at his arm, or rather, the empty space where they should have been. "So...uh, what happened to your arm?"
"Well, see, I'm a firefighter," Jagomerah began, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of long-held sadness. The metal arm detached from his body was held in his remaining hand. "When you're fighting a beast of fire, sometimes it bites back. Burning debris can fall, and sometimes it traps someone whose means of escape is for his comrade to make a tough call because the fire is spreading."
As Jagomerah talked, his fingers worked on his mechanical limb. The sight fascinated me, the gleaming metallic end, the intricate design, and the way the parts clicked into place with a satisfying sound. Each movement reflected countless repetitions and a depth of familiarity that looked almost second nature.
His gaze turned to me, a question hanging in the air between us. "What about you? How did it happen?"
"Grenade," I replied, the single word packed with echoes of a past I wasn't quite ready to delve into.
"My shift has started, but I have time before I have to go to Greater Jakarta for the next twenty hours. Maybe I can show you around?"
I looked at Lovaz's whose hard gaze still didn't escape me. I met her glare with a smile, feeling a touch of defiance rise in me.
"Why do you care so much about this defective one?" Lovaz spat.
Jagomerah shrugged "He seemed nice. You don't have to come along with me. Just…reconvene at the meeting point at 18:45"
The tension between us hung palpably in the air as Lovaz lingered, shooting one last look of contempt my way before she walked away, her tail slapped against Jagomerah's leg.
"Well… that was something," Johan murmured. "The arxurs aren't one for much for socialization, are they?"
Feeling an odd kinship with the human, I decided to explain, "The only necessary relationship in the Dominion is between you and the State. Some arxurs would take a mate, but it's always in the service of the State. A mate could keep an eye on you in the field and administer first aid if needed."
"If you have a mate," Vani began. "what would he do if the incident with the farsul happened?"
I looked down at my lap, my scales catching the low light. "He would leave me to die." My voice sounded heavy with a bitter truth.
Everyone fell silent for a moment.
"Let's not dawdle," Jagomerah interrupted, shifting the atmosphere with a few words. "Follow me."
As we moved, I found myself questioning the cyborg. "What are you doing here?"
Jagomerah stopped, turning back to me. "Wait... you do have the concept of disaster relief... right?"
I blinked, my mind racing. "Uh... the closest thing we have is asset recovery," I said, embarrassed. "Your description on social media says you fight the fire, right? Do you put out conflagration?"
"That's right," he walked away again, his mechanical limb gesturing for us to continue following him.
As we moved, Jagomerah began to explain his role. It went beyond just putting out raging fires but it also involved pulling out survivors or bodies, clearing away the debris, and ensuring the remaining structures had enough integrity for rebuilding to commence. Their dedicated work created the foundation on which the rest of the humans could begin reconstructing the city.
After navigating the winding alleys of Sector Ten, we arrived at a prefabricated building near a wide road that allowed for the movement of large vehicles. Indeed, several huge vehicles bordered the building. Jagomerah led us through one of the gates in the building into a cavernous room. Inside, we saw a massive vehicle with dimensions larger than Johan's already big van. Humans moved around it in coordinated chaos, packing the vehicle with an assortment of tools and supplies.
All sorts of rescue gear adorned the walls. Some of them looked familiar to me, hoses coiled, axes with their blades shining under the overhead lights, ladders arranged according to size, and sledgehammers. There were also some that looked more complicated, from the design, I guessed that it uses hydraulics to help prop something or force something to open.
Lockers, each personalized with a human name, added a touch of individuality to the otherwise functional room. The heavy scent of rubber and metal hung in the air. Dominating the far end of the room, a large digital display showcased a detailed map of Greater Jakarta. The multitude of markings and notes told a silent story of planning, strategic thinking, and past operations.
A human woman approached Jagomerah, her greeting a bark, "Hey, Agni!"
Agni? Perhaps that was his other name, just like Snop was also known as Kirani. I found myself a little puzzled, having to familiarize myself with the concept of people using multiple names for everyday social life, not for espionage.
The human's skin was a deeper shade of brown, her hair coiled and secured into a neat bun. Her gaze turned to me, her eyes widening in surprise. "Whoa… what happened to that guy?"
"Grenade," Jagomerah replied, the single-word explanation heavy with unspoken stories.
Her eyes narrowed, "You're not replacing Lovaz with them, are you?"
"No," he assured her, his tone calm and clear. "Lovaz should arrive after breaking the fast. I'm taking this arxur and his friend here to look around."
We introduced ourselves with Johan kicking off the process. When my turn arrived, I said to myself with a touch of embarrassment, "My name is Tresn, right now… I'm not able to contribute."
A man, his face marked by burn scars that halted the growth of facial fur, chimed in, "Of course, you can't. No one in the right mind would ask you to work. Focus on your healing first."
Jagomerah then guided us through the process of their preparation. He explained what each item in the stacks of supplies was for. Besides the collection of essentials like food and water, and medical kits it also featured an impressive array of construction tools. I watched as teams worked together, loading supplies into vehicles, and checking and double-checking their lists. I saw clusters of team members in huddled discussions, their focus on tablets displaying complex documents. I watched them practice procedures, going through the motions of first aid, victim search, debris clearing, and evacuation protocols.
At one point Jagomerah introduced us to one of the drones that would help them. It looked like a human if a human was made out of blocks. The drone excited Johan and Cynthio and the two humans began interrogating the machine.
The buzz of activity that had characterized this place began to fade as the time for meal approached. People moved away from their tasks, converging towards the dining halls, the scent of food replacing the scent of rubber and metal.
Jagomerah and his team brought me towards the carnivore dining hall, a part of the camp designed to accommodate species with diets like us. My roommates, meanwhile, wandered off towards the herbivore hall. There were many arxurs present, and though I could feel their glances on my scarred form, none approached me.
The dining area was divided into two queues. One led to a spread of raw meat where the arxurs could pile their trays high with a selection of proteins. The second queue catered to a more human palate, featuring cooked dishes.
When I joined the line for the human food, Jagomerah looked at me in surprise. But he nodded in approval after I explained that I prefer cooked meat now. He told me that the dish for the night was Rawon, a delicious black soup cooked with a special kind of plant that contains hydrogen cyanide.
"Wait...what?"
"Yeah, but the plant has been processed to remove that toxin away. See... this is why we process food and cook them." He looked at the line of arxurs helping themselves to the blocks of meat. "I can't imagine eating them, so chewy and bland, even our raw meat dishes have seasoning in them."
That remark intrigued me. "Wait, you have raw meat dishes too?"
"Sure, we have-"
"Next!" The human server shouted. Our discussion had made a large gap between us and the last human.
"Okay, let's get this rawon first."
I noticed that the humans also have white plant matter called 'rice' to go with the rawon. For me, I would have just the soup, rich, aromatic, and packed with chunks of meat. To my delight, the meal also came with boiled eggs. Settling down with humans felt different from the stern, disapproving arxur tables back at the fleet. Here, Jagomerah and his team shared jokes, stories, and smiles as we ate. As we tucked into our meals, I shared my own tale, the official version of my crash landing.
Jagomerah listened, his gaze serious. When I finished, he took a moment before speaking. "When Lovaz says… I'm sorry… 'defective'… she's referring to more than just your physical condition, right?" He paused, recalling our earlier conversation. "You said the same to me when we chatted."
"Yeah... us Arxurs aren't supposed to be like... this." I gestured towards myself.
"I'm glad that you're like this," Jagomerah patted my shoulder. I didn't think he said that in pity, but rather understanding, and acceptance.
A soft chiming sound echoed from his wrist, drawing our attention. Jagomerah glanced down at the device strapped around his wrist, his eyes scanning over the display.
"Ah, duty calls," he sighed. I could feel a certain heaviness in his tone. "Our mission is about to start and we'll be in Greater Jakarta for the next twenty-four hours."
"Do what you need, human," I responded, a hint of a smile on my face.
"But feel free to message me, okay?" He proposed. Giving me a chance for us to continue our discussion. Perhaps it could lead to something more, I hoped.
After saying our goodbyes, I watched Jagomerah and his team depart. The herbivore dining didn't expect an Arxur like me and it would cause problems if I popped up there. Instead, I decided to wait in the plaza. I found a quiet corner and parked myself, my mind wandering back to Jagomerah and his team. The brief time I'd spent with them passed, unlike anything I'd experienced before. I felt a sense of acceptance and togetherness that felt...right.
For the first time, I felt like I belonged.

I understand that California has super stringent and medical and FDA policies but I have a question, after paying off 2 peoples medical bills almost single handedly (small portion was insurance) I wanted to sell all I have that is longer not needed and/will never be used again and make even a small amount back just for a few cases of beers and ribs. Enough for me to forget how crazy expensive medical crap is. For reference, I have 3 CPAP machines and 12 boxes of 5 ct bags of Dextrose Peritoneal home dialysis. BTW I've tried the main two websites for CPAP, and although I don't have many hr on my systems, they are the slightly older versions. Any place in Sacramento where I can bring it to..
Please forgive me if this post is not allowed. I don't know what to do with all my stuff having expiration dates.

First of all, English is not my first language so I’m sorry if I have a few mistakes
I’m a huge Taylor Swift fan but I live in Mexico, she’s never been here EVER
Some notes: 1) my visa is expired so I had no opportunity to go to a US concert 2) I’m currently 7 weeks pregnant 3) we (my bf and me) started a business together 2 months ago, but I have a job and I also have a clothing shop and I sell cakes/cookies
June 2nd, she (TS) announced 3 dates for Mexico! And I was very excited, I literally cried cause I’ve been a fan for years even though I’m 20. Mind you, I’ve been listening to her since I’m like 10
It’s been months and months of telling my bf “I’m saving money for TS” “I want to go to a TS concert so bad” “my dream is meeting TS”,
In the morning after the announcement, he was like “we can buy these seats” “I like the view here”, etc, but hours later he told me that it wasn’t viable going to the TS concert, that is better to invest that money, I told him that I have my baby money, my savings money and my investment money already separated from each other, but he insisted and told me that it wasn’t responsible going knowing that I’m pregnant
Another note, I didn’t ask him for money, again, I HAVE MY SAVINGS FOR TAYLOR! And I wanted (and still want) a front row ticket, so I can be comfortable and not make a lot of effort, my pregnancy is completely healthy and my doctor said that it’s okay for me to go since I’m a really healthy person, I work out, eat healthy etc, by the concert dates I’ll be like 4 months pregnant
He basically told me not to count with him, so I told him okay and he went nuts telling me that I was throwing a tantrum. He started to complain about my medical records (I don’t know if that’s the way to say it, sorry) that I haven’t done yet because I was sick and doctor told me to wait a week after the treatment was over (Sunday is the last day of the waiting period)
I got mad cause I’m paying for the ticket and paying for doctor out of my pocket too so I have no debt, and I may be TA in this part but after he was criticizing me about things that had nothing to do with the topic (like my parents or my desires to travel to a different city every year) I blocked him, I even block his number cause I’m still so mad
I’m not asking for money, I’m not a Stay At Home Girlfriend either for him to be controlling my spendings or giving me bad opinions about how I spend my money
So wdyt
I’m a TA for wanting to go to a TS concert?

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No matter how terrible a weapon the Terrans have produced to use upon you, know this: They've got something worse they didn't want to use. - Wemterran analyst
Desperate times call for desperate measures. - Codex of Forbidden Truth
That's the worst thing I've ever seen. - Everyone, sooner or later.
The worst you've seen so far. - The smartass next to them.
Magnus hummed to himself as he reached up and plucked a lemon from the tree.
The day was pleasant. A warm breeze, the artificial sun was shining, and the orchard park smelled of plants, growing things, fruit, and the faint scent of water from the lake.
He heard the sounds of power armor behind him and sighed.
Of course you have to ruin my day, he thought.
Outwardly, nothing changed.
Inside, Magnus activated his combat systems, putting them on either standby or low power.
"I can hear you," Magnus said, starting to peel the lemon as he turned around slowly.
The two Sword Knights stood facing him, blaze rifles leveled, roughly a hundred meters away.
"We have to secure the SUDS facility," Sword One stated.
"Mommy said so," the second one said.
Magnus nodded. "And we should always do what our mothers tell us to do," he said agreeably. He nodded down toward the lemon he was peeling. "Want a bite?"
"No," Sword Two said.
"Enough with the fruit!" Sword One said.
"What? I like fruit," Magnus said. He held up the lemon. "This one in particular. It has certain acids that I need. The vitamins and minerals in it are crucial to a healthy and happy life."
"If swear to God, if you say one more word about fruit..." Sword One said, letting the threat hang in the air.
Magnus smiled, taking a bite out of the lemon and slowly chewing it, enjoying the sour acidic taste.
"We have to kill you. You aren't authorized to be here," Sword One said.
"And your mother told you to," Magnus said, swallowing the bite. He smiled. "You sent the Tome Knight to kill my sister and the Rose Knight to kill my Captain."
Sword Two nodded. "By now, your sister is dead and the Captain has killed that alien."
Magnus chuckled, taking another bite and chewing slowly.
"What's so funny?" Sword One asked.
Magnus kept chewing and smiling.
"ANSWER ME!" Sword One shouted.
Magnus held up his hand, making a show of chewing and then swallowing.
"That you think my sister is dead," Magnus said. He chuckled again. "Archaic armor. Out of date weaponry I wouldn't use for home defense. Against us. The Twins."
Magnus gave no clue that he had read Captain Nakteti's messages on his retinal link.
"You have a sword. We have guns," Sword Two sneered.
"And a lemon," Magnus held up the half-eaten peeled lemon.
"THAT'S IT!" Sword One screamed.
For Magnus everything suddenly slowed down as his mind and body went into overdrive. He let go of the lemon and it seemed to hang in mid-air as he moved forward, drawing his sword. He could feel the 'sleeper' implants in his muscles go offline, feel his full strength flowing into his body as his muscle tissue purged the ATP-blockers that normally filled his muscle tissue.
The two armored figures were stock still to Magnus as he moved up to them, came to a stop, his foot throwing up dirt as he skidded sideways, sword back behind his head.
One stroke and he pivoted smoothly, turning and making another stroke.
The sparks were just starting to flash. The lemon was only a few inches lower than it was.
Magnus stepped behind them, the tip of his sword biting deeply into the backs of the knees on first the right legs, then the left legs of both armored men.
He felt the crunch of metal and circuitry.
But no soft spongy feeling of flesh.
He finished up with running back to the lemon, which had dropped a foot, sheathing his blade, and grabbing the lemon out of mid-air.
Sparks hadn't even shot from the backs of the Chronotronic Knight's knees. Their hands were just starting to drop from the wrists, the rifles just starting to fall into two pieces.
His systems went back to standby.
The hands dropped to the ground, still holding the rifle. Sparks shot from the backs of the knees and the amputated wrists.
Both Chronotronic Knights screamed.
Magnus took a bite of the lemon, chewing slowly as he walked forward.
"You know," he said conversationally, "If you're going to pick a fight with someone, you really shouldn't drop your hands before you pull the trigger."
He stopped and looked down at them. "You might want to be sure you can stand and fight too."
Sword Two looked up. "You cheated," he said.
Magnus frowned. It sounded like the armored man was crying.
"All's fair," Magnus shrugged. "You tried punching way out of your weight class."
"Mommy's going to be mad my hands fell off," the other one said.
To Magnus it sounded like he was weeping. He frowned as he popped the last of the lemon into his mouth and moved around behind Sword One.
"Well, let's get a look at you," he said, reaching out and feeling under the edge of the helmet.
"No. Don't. You're not supposed to look at us," Sword One said, trying to move forward on his knees.
"Mommy doesn't want people to look at us," Sword Two said.
Magnus stepped back, his frown deepening.
He hadn't felt any emergency catches or any other way to remove the helmet.
It felt more like a robot's head than a power armor helmet.
"Magnus! Don't! Don't kill them!" Nakteti's voice rang in his ear.
"Why not?" Magnus asked, looking at where both of the armored men were pushing around their hands with the stumps of their wrists.
When she told him, his eyes opened wide and he stared at the two weeping Knights with horrified eyes.
"Menhit redeem us," he whispered.
-----
The cherry broke free of the branch with an almost inaudible snap, the fruit bright red and full of sweet juice filled pulp.
Surscee lowered her hand and looked at the cherry, smiling.
To her, fruit was better tasting then the scientifically designed to appeal to the broadest palates nutri-forge template driven foods.
True, it had a small bee-kiss on one side, but that little brown imperfection made her smile.
She used a thumbnail to split the cherry at the seam and shuck the pit out, sucking the juice off of the pit before tucking it into a pocket on her leather skirt. She popped the cherry in her mouth and slowly turned around.
"Sooner or later, you have to make a decision," Surscee said, smiling. "You can stand in the bushes until the anomaly burns out if you want, but you might get bored."
"The final two SUDS layers are separating," came the synthesized male voice of the Tome Knight.
"Indeed," Surscee said. "That is why we can pick the fruit now. Before, the overlapping temporal zones made it impossible to pick them. This," she hefted the stem in her hand. "Means that we were successful."
"I cannot permit unauthorized access to this facility. It's mankind's one edge against a universe that Momma says wants nothing more than to destroy us," the Tome Knight said.
"I could say the same," Surscee said. "An archaic violent relic of a time nine thousand years in our past. Scarred by the Glassing and riven by The Scream. Out of time, your people dead and gone, the war you are fighting taught to children in school with all the passion of a bread recipe, your enemy now one of our most valued allies."
"That changes nothing!" the Tome Knight said.
The voice suddenly changed to that of a little girl.
"I'll kill her mommy. I won't let her get away," the Tome Knight said.
"That voice isn't your mommy," Surscee said, turning away.
"Yes it is," the Tome Knight's voice was male again.
"Your mommy isn't here," Surscee said. "Just as my mother is not here," she reached up and plucked another cherry.
"She won't get away, mommy," the little girl voice.
"Did it hurt?" Surscee asked, pitting the cherry with her thumbnail.
"Did what hurt?" the male voice again.
"What they did to you. Before they sealed you in that armor. When they sealed you in that armor. Did it hurt?" Surscee reached up and plucked a trio of cherries touching each other. She turned around, pitting them with her thumbnail.
"Does it hurt now?" she asked.
The Tome Knight was holding still.
"Your head hurts. Your angry," Surscee said softly, walking forward slowly. "What are you, Knight of the Tome? In that armor, what are you?"
"Mommy says not to tell," the Tome Knight said. The blaze rifle was leveled at Surscee. "I'm sorry, but mommy says you have to die."
Surscee brought her hand up, rings of light filled with glowing runes around her hand, wrist, and forearm.
The Tome Knight pulled the trigger.
The golden-white beam hit something in front of Surscee's palm, a rippling field full of runic script appearing.
Surscee kept walking forward, chewing on the cherry in her mouth. Still holding the cherries in her hand, she used her thumb and forefinger to release the catches on the front of her leather bustier, the exposed top slope of her breasts already glimmering with sweat.
The Tome Knight screamed in rage and pulled the trigger again.
Surscee held her hand out, wrist cocked, the beam hitting the field in front of her palm, as she kept walking slowly forward. She held out two fingers from the hand she was holding the cherries with, making a quick set of runes.
The rifle started to dissolve.
"MOMMY SAYS CHOP YOU UP!" the Tome Knight screamed, dropping the crumbling rifle and reaching for the force blade on their waist.
Surscee used her thumb to pop another cherry in her mouth as she took another step forward. She drew a quick rune with her cherry juice stained fingers, stepping through the glowing rune as she did so, sweat running down her back, her shoulders steaming as the sweat evaporated.
The Tome Knight held out the force blade handle and thumbed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
They clicked it again.
Surscee shook her head. "It will avail you not. I disabled it as soon as you raised the rifle," she said.
A halo of light appeared around the Tome Knight's clenched fist, shining edges with runes moving in a circle in the middle of the halo.
The Tome Knight stared at the force blade as Surscee took another pair of steps forward.
"You face a sorceress, whose knowledge far exceeds your own, child," Surscee said, the words more habit than thought through.
"I'M NOT YOUR CHILD!" the Tome Knight screamed, distortion filling the voice, throwing away the force blade handle and shaking their hand.
Surscee frowned.
"I can hit you to death!" the Tome Knight said, raising their arms and preparing to rush forward.
Surscee made quick motions and chains of burning blue fire leapt up from the ground, going around the Tome Knight's waist, their wrists, their ankles, their chest, around their neck. The chains clattered as they tightened.
The Tome Knight went over backwards with a cry of rage, screaming louder when they were pulled spread-eagle.
Surscee tossed the last cherry up in the air, opening her mouth and catching it, before walking up and stopping next to the Tome Knight.
"No. Mommy says I have to kill you," the Tome Knight said.
Surscee frowned at how it sounded like the Tome Knight was weeping behind the synthesized voice.
"What are you in there?" she asked softly. "Ion bonded warsteel laminate. Nanite protective layer in the laminate," she touched the chest.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" the Tome Knight screamed. "MOMMY! HELP ME, MOMMY!"
Surscee leaned forward to look into the optics of the helmet, uncaring that her breasts dropped from her loosened bustier beyond the fact that she could feel the heat rush off of her.
She froze at the odd noise the Tome Knight started making.
The Tome Knight was stock still, staring at Surscee's exposed breasts.
And making a lip smacking sucking sound.
"Oh, by the dark and fell fallen Titans Fyzar and Monstersano," Surscee said, her hand going to her mouth with shock. "Bellona protect me from such evil."
-----
Nakteti looked away from where Surscee was standing at the head of the medical bed, gently stroking the helmeted forehead of the Tome Knight.
"They're what?" she asked Chuck.
"It's hard to explain. I don't even know how it was done," Chuck said.
"Try," Nakteti said.
"They're children," Surscee said softly. "No, they're infants," she stroked the forehead of the helmet. "Enraged infants."
"But I thought the Digital Omnimessiah cured that," Nakteti said. "The Second Miracle."
"These... these..." Chuck said.
"People," Magnus said, his voice hard and brooking no argument. "Call them people, if nothing else for what they could have been."
"These people," Chuck's shoulders slumped. "Are enraged infants impressed with SUDS recordings of trained Combine troops. Who knows what else was done to them."
"But we've been working for years," Nakteti protested.
"Chronotrons keep them from changing too much. They're basically frozen like that," Chuck said. "This... this is monstrous."
"Are he in pain?" Magnus asked, looking up from the Knight of the Sword his hand was resting on.
"He was, till I overrode the suit interface," Chuck said. "They feel damage to the suit as if you had done it to their bodies," he gave a defeated sounding sigh. "They're young enough that their brains never discerned the difference between their own bodies and the armor. To their brains, they're one and the same."
"Can you do anything?" Surscee asked.
Chuck shook his head. "I wouldn't know where to even start. I barely understand what was done to them, much less how it was done. Without that, I have no idea how to undo it."
"The Old Gods preserve us," Nakteti said, shaking her head.
"It might be more merciful just to kill them," Chuck said.
Magnus looked around the room in the empty medical center, saw everyone's face, and gave a sigh of frustration.
"I'll do it," he said, drawing the knife from his belt. He looked at the others. "Why don't you go outside."
"I will stay," Surscee said, her voice soft and gentle. "I will not leave my brother alone to perform such a terrible task."
"As your liege, I will stay to witness what was done by my will," Nakteti said.
"Well, that means I can't leave. I'm not going to be the guy who leaves," Chuck said.
"Digital Omnimessiah grant me the strength to carry the burden of what I must do," Magnus said solemnly, placing his hand on the left side of the Sword Knight's chest, lowering the dagger to aim at the side of the armor. "Give me the guidance to do what is right, what is merciful, no matter how heavy the task is."
There was a light buzzing sound, like bees.
"Stay thy hand, Magnus."
Nakteti turned and stared.
The Digital Omnimessiah stood at the doorway, made up of flowing blue code with splotches of silver here and there.
"I am with you. Let me guide you along this dark path."
Nakteti went down on one knee.
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I had never fallen in love before; the idea disgusted me. But when I first saw her, I found out that mythical butterflies do, in fact, flutter in one’s belly. I always thought that our society just had an unhealthy relationship with soda pop, but there they were.
She was beautiful! She wasn’t the cookie-cutter beauty that your fashion magazine manufactures; her eyes twinkled naturally like store-bought moissanite. Her bushy, deep dark eyebrows looked like they'd been shampooed with brand-name self-care products. It wasn’t just her pink glazed donut lips or her flowy dark hair that stole my heart; it was her essence. She glowed like those aftermarket LED headlights on my nightly drive back home. And those eyes… those dreamy eyes!
I started cleaning on Friday afternoon as soon as I got home from work. Charlene, my desk mate, had misplaced my favorite pen and became gradually paler as she silently watched me erupt into a volcano without having to pay a subscription fee. It was given to me by my late father, a stickler for rules who failed his “how to show empathy” class up until the very last second of his miserable life. He stared hauntingly into my eyes as he drew his last breath. Her eyes were different; they smiled when she did and rolled when we bantered that one time I cornered her in our local convenience store. She was buying tampons, and I snuck behind and whispered, “bloody murder!” She was startled at first, jumped even, but her face softened as her glassy green eyes laid on me. I felt those damn butterflies again, practicing rain dancing as my heart exploded in my chest. She joked around that she was getting them as earplugs to drown out her noisy neighbor. I told her a shovel would work just as well. It was courting at its finest.
I woke up early on Saturday with the morning light and gingerly started cleaning the kitchen floor. Armed with my favorite dirty cleaning rag, I got down on my knees and found every nook and every cranny. My momma called me on her new iPhone to remind me about my aunt Vicky’s birthday later that day. She was upset that I wasn’t coming. I told her that I had plans with a mortician and whether I should put in a good word for her, but she didn’t find that funny one bit, so she lashed out like I knew she would. Her yell pierced through the phone like a messy SWAT raid, and after that, I heard as much as I cared to listen. She said something about how I always find a way to disappoint her. She reminded me of how that mouth of mine caused me to lose my previous job. Somehow it always comes back to money with her, and it used to make me cry, but this is her insecurity — not mine. Ever since I could remember, she was always keeping face around her more successful older sister who married into wealth. She dragged me to beauty pageants as early as five, and then to modeling castings after that, but I guess I was not good enough to be her golden egg.
The second time I officially met her was in the barely maintained suicidal elevator of our building complex. The maintenance date on the sticker had long expired, and every time those doors closed, it truly was a gamble of whether my laziness was worth the odds of me falling to my death in there. She had forgotten about me and our mesmerizing tampon talk at the nearby store, but I took no time to remind her of our lovely first encounter. “Ah!” she said, like a cliched mad scientist who had just solved aging, pointing an accusatory finger to the heavens. I asked her if she "took care" of her neighbor and extended her a wink. She pouted her juicy lips and started thinking for a bit while I mind surfed down her long, thick dark hair. Then suddenly, I saw excitement and joy building up inside of her and exploding out her bright, hypnotizing eyes. She tried to contain it and with a muffled chuckle, she said, "I won't say a thing, but don't you go looking in the rubbish downstairs!" Somehow, the conversation turned to famous serial killers and crime shows, so I did the thing and asked her to watch some series together sometimes.
The first time we did was last Saturday. I out-thrifted my local thrift stores and was fashionably late. She greeted me in sweatpants that failed to conceal the contour of her hips, and she coughed quite a bit before telling me that I smelled nice. I raided my momma's vanity earlier that day for brand-name perfumes and accessories. She always has the latest stuff. I told myself that I wouldn't overdo it, but I overdid it. She took a good look at me as I was heading out, fixed my hair, and asked, "Who's the lucky man?"
My gorgeous neighbor lived in apartment 31B, the one with the off-red door, and it was disgustingly perfect. I thought that since we lived in the same building complex, her place wouldn't be so different from mine, but it was. I don't think it was even the layout that made it better. It was the furniture arrangement, the attention to detail as if she had her masters in color theory. It was her. She gave me the tour, and I was amazed at how every room looked like someone's pinned Pinterest board. The whole place looked staged for viewing, but the way she flowed through her space made me realize that this was her norm. It was so clean that I started to wonder if she did kill her now eerily quiet neighbor. It wasn't until we sat down on the couch together, and she wrapped us in her silky vanilla blanket, that my anxiety flew away. But those damn butterflies persisted. I sat beside her, far enough to be cold but close enough to fill my fantasies and ask myself what this was. It came as no surprise, then, that we had an awkward goodbye when it was all over, and I stood at her door not knowing what to say or do. She held onto the door and said, "Next Saturday then?"
By the time Saturday evening arrived, it had been hours of me mindlessly cleaning and endlessly rearranging my furnitures around. The same anxiety that I felt at her place came back raging, and no amount of YouTube or Pinterest made me feel any better. But then, there came a knocking at the door. I wasn't expecting her this early, so naturally, I freaked out like a bomb had gone off in my head, and I started running all over the place, getting dressed like a chicken with its head cut off. I smeared perfume all over my body and opened the door with unrepentant puffy messy hair. It was momma. She looked fancy. She was rocking this beautiful light blue cocktail dress with cape sleeves. It screamed, "I overpaid for this dress”, and I wanted to puke—I loved it!' She gave me this 'check me out' look before she pranced in without any invitation. She saw how tired I looked and asked me if I ate anything, but she must have noticed the change in my apartment and didn't bother to let me answer. There was this glimmer in her eyes when she asked, 'Well, well, you smell nice! Who's coming over?'"
I swear I'm better than this, but in that moment of pure exhaustion, I just let my guard down and told her the truth—that I was having a girlfriend over to watch a show. I knew instantly that I'd messed up as soon as the words left my mouth. Her eyes blinked at a thousand miles per hour, like she was looking for the least hurtful way to explode, but there's nothing kind about her outbursts. She yelled, "You're missing out on your aunt's birthday to watch a show with a friend??" I watched her face get redder with anger and felt tears at the ready, edging the corner of my puffy eyes, and I felt the kind of muffled anger that a 30-year-old adult woman would have to explain to her mother what adult choices made her happy, but I couldn't say anything. No matter how angry I was, I couldn't tell her to just let me be. I let out a weak but defiant "Yeah?" And she unleashed on me about just how much she was disappointed in me. She slammed me about how little I cared for my family, so I yelled back at her, saying that I didn't care about a who's who party where we must rent out a fancy dress to be welcomed. "I bought this damn dress!" she yelled in pure anger, oblivious to the point that I was making. I retorted that she was doing a good job hiding the price tag to return it later then, and that's when the palm of her hand found my face. I stumbled onto the ground, and in an attempt to regain balance, I held onto the big standing mirror behind me and dragged it to the floor with me.
I sat on the floor and finally justified crying; a bit of blood painted my right hand. Her left hand covering her mouth, she fumbled a reactionary apology and made her way to the door avoiding the pieces of glass on the floor. She stumbled out in tears just as my green-eyed neighbor was about to knock. She looked back at my fleeing mother in shock and ran to the kitchen to get me a wet paper towel. When she finally joined me on the floor, my face had turned red, but my tears had dried. It was then that I saw this piece of broken mirror shattered perfectly in half, but not separated. You could see the crack going all the way down.
The reflection was of both of us, each of us on different sides of the crack. She was perfect. I would have written a sonnet from the cadence of her hips. I would have written a haiku on her lips, but we were from different worlds, and I was tired of expectations. I was tired of having to validate what my happiness should look like.
So, I reached in.

EDIT: She reached out to me about 30 minutes after I posted this. Long story short, there was an unrelated medical emergency yesterday. Glad she's OK.
Original post below.

Cathy and I are in what we both agreed would be an intimate friendship / friends with benefits arrangement, and have seen each other a few times over the last 4 months. Last Friday, we went out for dinner and spent some time kissing in my car before I dropped her off at her place, with an agreement that she'd come to my apartment the following Thursday (i.e. yesterday).
The morning after our date I woke up and noticed a small scab on my lip. My lips dry out, get chapped, and peel extremely easily, sometimes to the point of drawing blood. Given how dry my lips had been that morning and the day before, I chalked it up to that. Even with my assumption that this was nothing, I decided to err on the side of caution and transparency and text Cathy. Cathy is immunocompromised, and I wanted to make sure she had as much notice as possible on the off chance that this did turn out to be HSV.

Hi! I don't want to alarm you but I noticed today that there's a small scab on my lip. 99% sure it's just from being insanely chapped, since I looked up cold sore symptoms and they don't seem to match, but on the 1% chance I figured I should reach out. Will keep you posted.
By symptoms not matching: No raised area or swelling, no cluster of anything at any point, no burning, itching, tingling, or any other sensation, sudden onset.

She wrote back:

Hey! Definitely alarmed but thanks. Just keep me posted. Hope you're having a good day :)

By the next morning (Sunday), scab was almost completely gone. Everything I'd read about cold sores said they took between 2-3 weeks from first symptoms appearing to being healed, so to me, this was confirmation that I was right about this just being chapped lips / dry skin peeling and not anything to worry about, and I texted Cathy to say so. I followed up on Wednesday and Thursday, and haven't heard anything back. She did not show up to my place Thursday.
I want to offer the benefit of the doubt here because I know her phone's been having some bizarre technical difficulties with my messages. She showed me her screen on our Friday date - some of my texts aren't coming through at all, others are coming through but not appearing under our existing conversation even though I haven't made any change to my number. Problem is I also called her twice, left a voicemail the first time, and still didn't get a response back. She didn't show up for our Thursday date.
I get tested for STIs quarterly, but the last time I asked my doctor about adding HSV to the panel, he said that he strongly discouraged it because it's so ubiquitous (stats I've seen are between 50% and 80% of adults for HSV1) and the test doesn't distinguish between HSV1 and HSV2. I have no specific memory of ever having a cold sore since I first saw the symptoms described in detail, but I can't speak to anything pre-adulthood there so I doubt that counts for much.
If Cathy doesn't want to continue the relationship, then I don't want to pressure her to make any decisions she's not comfortable with. On the other hand, if this communication issue is the result of technical difficulties, I don't want to let things drop until I can at least be confident that she received the all-clear message and that things are OK on her end. Would it be worth contacting her husband (who I've met before) to explain the situation and ask "yes/no did she get my message on Sunday and is she OK"? Or would that be crossing a line?