Lover of ICU and Resuscitation. Message to talk.

Tips for Writing Therapists / Psychologists!!

⟢ A therapist is not a mind reader!! Please don’t make them instantly diagnose everyone after one conversation like they have emotional X-ray vision. A good therapist notices patterns, asks questions, listens carefully, and forms ideas over time. They can be perceptive, yes, but they still need context. Someone being quiet could mean trauma, boredom, distrust, exhaustion, cultural difference, or just that they hate small talk. A therapist who assumes too fast is dangerous.

⟢ A therapist is not supposed to be a professional life coach who says, “dump him, queen” and sends the character home fixed. Therapy is usually more about helping someone understand their own patterns, choices, feelings, defenses, and relationships. Sometimes the therapist barely says the “right answer” because the point is for the character to arrive there themselves. Annoying? Yes. Useful? Also yes.

⟢  A therapy session has structure, even when it feels casual. There’s usually a beginning, a middle, and an end. The therapist checks in, follows threads, notices when the client avoids something, brings them back if they drift, and tries not to crack open a giant emotional wound five minutes before the session ends. That last part matters. A good therapist does not casually drop “so maybe your mother never loved you properly” at minute fifty-nine and then say “see you next week.”

⟢ They should have boundaries!! A therapist is not their client’s friend, parent, savior, romantic interest, emergency emotional sponge, or personal prophet. They may care deeply, but the relationship has a lot of rules. No hanging out casually. No sharing too much personal life. No texting all night unless the setting and treatment type actually support that. AND boundaries do not mean they don’t care. Boundaries are part of the care. Without them, therapy gets messy FAST.

⟢ Different therapists have different styles. Some are warm and gentle. Some are direct. Some use humor. Some are quiet. Some focus on thoughts and behavior. Some focus on childhood and relationships. Some focus on the body, trauma, patterns, coping skills, or practical problem-solving. Don’t write every therapist like the same soft-voiced plant owner. Their method should fit their training, personality, and the kind of clients they work with.

⟢ A therapist notices avoidance. The client changes the subject every time their father comes up. They laugh after saying something painful. They talk about work whenever romance gets too close. They explain feelings instead of feeling them. They get sleepy, angry, sarcastic, polite, or suddenly “fine.” Avoidance can look like anything. A therapist character becomes believable when they notice not only what is said, but what keeps getting stepped around.

⟢ Progress is NOT a straight line. A character does not go to three sessions, understand their trauma, set boundaries, and become emotionally hydrated forever. They backslide. They cancel. They lie. They have one breakthrough and then do the same stupid thing again because knowing better and doing better are not twins. Therapy progress often looks like noticing the pattern five minutes after repeating it. Then one minute after. Then before.

⟢ A good therapist asks better questions than normal people. Not dramatic genius questions every two seconds. More like questions that make the client hear themselves differently. “Who taught you that needing help was embarrassing?” “What do you think would happen if you stopped being useful?” “When did anger become safer than sadness?”

⟢ Their own life should not be perfect. A therapist can understand attachment wounds and still be avoidant. They can teach boundaries and still answer emails at midnight. They can help clients name grief while ignoring their own. Knowledge does not make someone immune to being a person. Honestly, sometimes it just makes their denial more professionally worded.

⟢ The therapy room matters!! A LOT!! The plant. The tissues. The clock. The slightly ugly couch. The white noise machine outside the door. The bookshelf. The chair placement. The lamp trying its best. The room is part of the character’s experience. A client who grew up being watched may sit where they can see the door. A therapist might notice that.

⟢ They should know when not to make it about trauma!! Not every behavior is a trauma response. Sometimes someone is selfish. Sometimes they made a bad choice. Sometimes they’re tired. Sometimes the relationship is simply wrong. A therapist who turns every single thing into childhood trauma can feel fake and honestly annoying!!

⟢ There are different settings, and they change everything!! Private practice is different from a school counselor’s office, a hospital psych unit, a community clinic, a crisis hotline, a prison, a rehab center, a university counseling office. The setting decides resources, time, risk, paperwork, client load, safety, privacy, and how much freedom the therapist has. A therapist with twenty clients and low funding is not living the same life as someone with a calm office and a waitlist full of rich people with attachment issues.

⟢ A therapist character should have a line they will not cross. Will they treat someone they know? Will they lie to protect a client? Will they break rules if they think someone is in danger? Will they keep seeing a client who scares them? Will they accept money from someone with power over them?

Here we go, it’s a little rough and dark but I think there’s something for everyone. Enjoy!   I was told to stay late as requested by my teacher. Strange as she never asked before but I guess I was the catalyst for this insistence.   My names John by the way not sure if I mentioned that earlier.. I asked for extra credit as my grades were just not up to par and she was nice enough to lend me a hand but the weird part it was after class in her privet quarters. Strange indeed but I decided hey if it’s going to make me pass then why the hell not. On a side note she wanted me to call her by her first name Valerie. I didn’t think nothing of it in fact getting some alone time got me excited for all the wrong reasons. You see Miss Valerie was exceptionally pretty. Older just a tad bit not that I was young myself but to save my embarrassment at this age being in college I’ll leave that part out for now. Any way’s me and her were mere years apart. She was tall and fit she must of been a regular at the gym. As for myself I could’ve used a day or month at the gym. I was kind of tall, medium dark hair, a average build with a tan I got from my Greek heritage. That was about all I had going for me, I can already see who’s reading this painting a picture so I’ll move on. Now let me get back to Val. Aside from what I pointed out from above her skin was bronze like an Armenian queen, her breast were perky and her ass just curvy enough, deep hazel eyes, lips a natural ruby red and full with flowing black hair. Her glasses really did it for me she had a nice sexy librarian vibe going on and it was hot.

When I finally meet up with her we go over what she wants me to do to get the extra credit I need. Well I wasn’t expecting this that’s for sure, let me explain. After closing the door behind me she slowly dims the lights and proceeded to seduce me. I felt like it was a dream or on a bad soap opera but I went a long with, you know for extra credit purposes. Any normal decent minded person would have stopped this but not me mister depravity and eager to get  a passing grade. I thought sex would be next but I got something else on the table. She tells me “I’m going to lay on this table and your going to practice CPR on me, no face mask or fake compression’s, No wait I want something more meaningful.” Her voice fades with interest. I listened closely and to my surprise, She wanted me to strangle her unconscious. Yep, you heard right, I was told to strangle her unconscious and resuscitate her back. I’m all like OK but I was hesitant which lead her to egg me on and of course placing her hand on my thigh and moving to my now bulging member. I didn’t want her to stop honestly I had to think quick. She asked me if I knew CPR and luckily a summer course I took I vaguely remember. I was afraid that if I didn’t comply what would come next so I had to indulge her even if I felt different.

My hands wrap around her neck and all he kinky prowess came out. She began to touch her self as my hands swelled around her neck and squeezed her. She moaned ever so gently until she went limp. If felt long but in real time it was quick I guess I was so confused and turned on at the same time until panic set in. I laid her down on the carpeted floor and couldn’t help but admire her body. There she was and I can’t believe this, I mean people go to jail over stuff like this. Like what the hell was I thinking. Am I that disturbed that I really needed to do this? If anything I had to redeem myself, right now as doom was setting in my ice cold blood and failing nerves I had to act fast. Was she cute, was she vulnerable and sexy laying there, yes, yes she was and I could of easily took advantage of this but that’s not me I told myself. I have some morels left. Maybe? I didn’t need to check her vitals I knew she was dead or good at acting like it. No breath or pulse I started CPR. I tilted her head back brushing her dark hair aside, opening her inviting mouth wide and pinching her delicate nose shut. I take in a deep breath like a serious breath and seal my mouth over my teachers mouth. I release my warm breath deep into her I can almost hear it force itself down her throat and into her lungs twice. I watch the effects of my rescue breaths make her chest rise stretching across her shirt and bra. I thought to myself her cloths might be constricting my efforts and also she was unconscious so I’m sure she wouldn’t mind my attempt’s of helping her breathe. My hands grip her shirt and rip it open. Her breast spill out like wild animals being released from a cage it was incredible. My hands immediately snap to and find there place in between her sternum. They collapse into her soft chest pumping hard swaying her body vigorously back and forth from the force of my compression’s. It was like art I was totally in sync. My only worry was what if she didn’t wake up. No time to dwell on the uncertainty had to keep going. Or maybe I should call for help but I set myself to look just as guilty so reviving her was my only way to make this work. My worry was masked a little because of Val’s sheer beauty. Each attempt to resuscitate her somehow turned me on. I was not that kinky but perhaps I found out about something within myself I didn’t even know. Her head slanted to the side as drool ran out her mouth. Her body was as rag doll dead as ever. Needless to say I was worried. Our lips locked once again, I couldn’t help but find myself being turned on by it, she tasted so sweet I didn’t want this moment to end. I used my tongue to sweep her throat of obstructions, not sure if it helped but I couldn’t help myself. Once again two full breaths puffing out her cheeks and swelling her throat as I force my hot breath down her slender esophagus. I catch a  glimpse from the corner of my eye her chest rises and fall with ever breath I give her. I inflate her more and more loving the way her breast rises just inches from my face just the sight of it was beautiful, I could seriously cum just from that.

Our mouths part as a small spit trail separates from our connecting mouth. I could care less she could of spit in my mouth and I would have not cared I was feverishly turned on trying to revive this beauty. I slide on top of her pumping away at her petite chest. Letting my hands sink in between her breast as they caress my hands ever so gently. My cock grinds against her simulating a sex session I’d so rather be having right now. As fatigue sets in my frustrated self grabs her by her throat again as I move inches from her face and shout “WAKE UP VAL! PLEASE THIS ISN’T FUNNY ANYMORE! I DON’T NEED THE DAMN GRADES JUST WAKE UP DAMN IT I’M BEGGING YOU!.. My voice falls flat as I reposition her head for mouth to mouth. Our lips interlocking like as passionate kiss as I blow two hard breaths into her. I rest my hand on her breast feeling it rise and fall as I give her the kiss of life. Her breast so soft and supple putting me in a state of ecstasy. Without warning she grabs me sliding her tongue in my mouth kissing my passionately. I was taken back at first but went with it. I never had feelings for my teacher or any teacher for that matter  but in this state of confusion I was far beyond gone.

conscious choking in public, heimlich maneuver/abdominal thrusts, back slaps, one victim (F), one rescuer (M)

‘here :)’ Violet sent a text to the group chat, letting her girlfriends know she was the first one to arrive. She looked around, tossing her brown wavy hair over her shoulder and walked up to the bar, ordering a caesar. She thanked the bartender and started a tab. It was that kind of night. A recent breakup with her long term partner Adam had her feeling…complicated. They were growing in different ways and still cared for each other, but were better off as friends, not lovers. Still, it hurt and was painful, and Violet needed a distraction.

Violet took a sip of the caesar, enjoying the savoury drink, waiting for her girlfriends. She enjoyed people watching. She scanned the crowd, recognizing some familiar faces. But one stood out in particular. Her stomach dropped and she spluttered on her drink, coughing, wiping her chin clumsily.

Adam. He approached, a lopsided smirk lifting the right side of his mouth, bringing out his dimples. “Am I dreaming, or is that-”

“What are you doing here Adam?” Violet demanded, trying to regain some composure, a tickle still stuck in her throat. She downed at him, anger simmering in her chest. He stared at Violet, incredulous. “It’s a small town Violet, there’s like three bars total, we were bound to run into each other eventually” he said, tilting his head. He looks Violet up and down, taking in her black dress, wavy brown hair and makeup, “why, what are you doing here? Are you on a date?”.

Violet blushed, fidgeting with her phone. Where are my friends? Violet thinks to herself, feeling annoyed. “I’m meeting the girls here for drinks” she mumbled, “then we’re going to watch my coworker’s band perform across the street”. Adam smiled, genuinely pleased. Violet suppressed an eye roll. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m heading there too, small world. I know the drummer.” Adam said.

Violet stared at him; “Yeah Adam, I know you know the drummer” she snapped. His face fell. Violet didn’t mean to be rude, but she was really looking forward to this distraction from heartache tonight. She sighed, gripping her caesar glass. Violet shook her head, “sorry” she mumbled. They locked eyes and Adam’s lower lip pouted. “Wow, an apology, was that so hard Vi?” he sneered. Violet could hear the joking tone, but she wasn’t in the mood.

Violet rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Adam” she scoffed. She raised the caesar glass to her lips and downed the rest of it, more for something to do than anything else, hoping the conversation would end. She picked up the garnish spear from the empty glass and popped an olive into her mouth, holding it on her tongue, focusing on the salty flavour, trying to ground herself. Someone bumped into her from behind, knocking her forward in her seat, squeezing her against the bar top for a moment. It wasn’t intentional, or particular rough, but it was just enough to make her current situation worse.

Suddenly, Violet couldn’t breathe properly. The olive had slid to the back of her mouth before she even had a chance to chew it, and perched at the top of her throat. The sensation surprised her, the briney flavour burning her nose. Violet focused, trying to move the olive back up with her tongue, but the slippery olive disobeyed her and slid further down, inching its way towards her airway. Panic flared inside of her, but Violet tried to stay calm. She kept her mouth closed and tried inhaling through her nostrils, but realized with horror that this was the wrong move as the olive slipped further back, seemingly in slow motion, and wedged itself fully at the top of her trachea, blocking any airflow.

Violet’s gag response activated, but nothing happened, other than an awkward shift in her seat. Her hands stilled at the edge of the bar top as she tried unsuccessfully to clear her throat. She was choking; honest god, full on choking. She couldn’t cough, breathe, or speak. She was scared, alarmed at how quickly things had escalated, how urgent and lethal it felt. Violet looked around and pulled at Adam’s sleeve, trying to get his attention back. Adam looked down at her, smirking.

“What’s up Vi, you good?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow. Cocky asshole Violet thought to herself. Violet didn’t respond; rather, she seemed to curl in on herself and gag, but no noise came out. She raised a shaking hand to her chest and tried to swallow, a pained look spreading across her face. “Vi? Vi, you good?” Adam repeated, reaching out a hand to Violets shoulder. Violet didn’t respond. Maybe she didn’t hear him? “Hey, Violet, look at me…” Adam leaned in, frowning, concern flickering across his features. Violet wrapped her hands around her throat, mouth opening and closing, surprise replacing the pain on her face. She tried swallowing again, another silent grimace, then heaved without noise as if she were going to be sick. Violet slammed her right hand onto the bar, causing her empty glass to rattle, left hand still gripping her throat. She turned to Adam, frantic, pointing at her throat, mouth hanging open. Violet’s eyes brown eyes were wide and glassy, frantically searching Adam’s face, urging him to understand.

“Are you okay?” Adam asked, genuine concern in his voice, noting the energy shift between them after their banter. Their breakup had been painful for both of them, but amicable. He’d never seen Violet act like this before, and lord knows she never stayed silent longer than a few seconds. “Vi? Violet, are you okay?” Adam asked again, urgency lacing his voice. Violet shook her head no, hair falling into her face. Violet’s mouth open and closed, not a single noise, not seven a gasp escaping from her full lips. She closed her eyes and banged a fist to her chest, her cleavage peeking out the top of her black dress.

“Holy shit, you’re choking? You’re choking! Shit!” Adam exclaimed, standing up. Before Violet could even nod her head, Adam was pounding her back with his large hand, palm audibly smacking the bare skin between her shoulder blades. Violet rocked forward with each back slap, nearly toppling off her stool. She gripped the bar top and braced herself against the pounding on her back, still working to clear her airway, still silent, still suffocating.

Violet felt a flush spreading across her cheeks- lack of oxygen and embarrassment Violet thought unhelpfully to herself. Violet squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on clearing her airway, fingertips scrabbling at the tiny lump she could feel through the skin on her throat. “Vi! Vi, talk to me….” She heard Adam’s low voice urging her. Her eyes flew open, startled to see Adam leaning so close into her line of vision. Violet tried to talk, but her voice remained stuck behind the olive lodged in her airway.

A freaking olive. Violet was appalled at the absurdity of the situation; unable to breath because an olive was blocking her airway after she childishly downed her drink, at a bar waiting for her girlfriends to enjoy a couple drinks before starting their night out, only to choke and have her life relying on the hands of her ex. The universe is cruel sometimes Violet thought dully to herself.

“Vi! Violet, can you breathe?” Adam’s voice brought Violet back to the present. She looked into Adam’s concerned eyes and shook her head, pointing to her throat again. Adam disappeared behind her and she felt his arms slide around her waist, fingers frantically poking around her belly before settling above her naval. She braced herself, knowing that the Heimlich maneuver was coming. Adam thrust his fists up into Violet’s ribcage. Violet’s mouth opened in surprise; she would have called out in pain if she could pass any air.

Another painful thrust; Violet’s head flew back, knocking against Adam’s chest, lolling to the side as more abdominal thrusts racked her body. Yet her throat remained stubbornly blocked, still choking on the olive. Adam’s arms disappeared from around her, sending her toppling off her seat. She caught herself against the bar top, gripping it for support, half leaning, half standing. Violet was aware of how bizarre they must look right now; flustered and flushed, slumping over the bar, spit pooling in the corner of her mouth, thick brown hair thrown in waves around her shoulders, her ex alternating between pounding her back and delivering powerful Heimlich maneuvers into her aching abdomen.

Adam’s hand forced Violet’s face up towards his, his green eyes searching her face. “Violet, come on” he growled, opening her mouth and peering in. Violet grimaced, tapping Adam’s wrists, urging him back into action as she unsuccessfully tried coughing, her body heaving uselessly. Another round of firm back slaps between her shoulder blades. Violet noticed a bartender approaching, and was faintly aware of the small crowd that had gathered around them. Violet wanted to curl into a ball and die- don’t think like that she scolded herself, not now. The world lurched with each painful thrust Adam delivered into her aching tummy, her ribcage protesting with sharp pains. Pressure built behind her sternum, so close to bursting, her vision blurring with tears, when suddenly-

Pop!

A gag, followed by a desperate wheeze and a weak, unproductive cough. Violet grasped Adam’s strong arms still yanking into her waist, keeping her upright. “Vi? Vi, cough it out, that’s it, come on…” Adam urged, shaking her body with desperation. Violet jostled in his arms, dizzy and lightheaded, and tried to cough. A pitiful noise escaped her throat; the olive had shifted enough to allow some air to pass, but was still wedged firmly in her throat. Violet slapped her palm flat to her chest, desperate to clear her throat.

“I can’t- hurkkkk- get it- hngggg- out” Violet gagged out. Adam rubbed Violet’s back, but she needed more than that. She still couldn’t breathe properly. “Adam, h-help me, please-” her voice was cut off by a wet squelching sound, her airway convulsing, trying to rid the blockage from her throat.

Adam seems to understand and slammed her back several more times. Violet stamped her foot and slammed the bar counter in front of her, frustrated, scared, and angry. Violet drew in a shallow, ragged breath. She attempted a self-Heimlich maneuver, but Adam moved quickly. “No no, let me, here”. He stepped behind her once more and laced his fingers over hers, thrusting both of their fists up under Violet’s ribcage.

“Huckkkk”

Another thrust, “huggggff”

One more, “gckkkakkk”

And suddenly, the olive released itself from its lethal hold on Violet’s throat, popping out like it hadn’t just held her life in peril. It bounced onto the table in front of Violet, glistening in the low light of the bar, mocking her. Violet stared, appalled at how small it was.

Violet gasped a painful inhale, followed by a rough, dry cough. She wheezed, sagging in Adam’s arms. “Violet! Violet, stay with me…Violet?” His voice urged, lips brushing against her left ear. Violet panted, eyes closed, nodding her head, weakly patting his hands still wrapped around her waist. “Violet, talk to me. Vi? Vi, come on, breathe, you’re okay, you’re okay, just breathe…” Adam rambled, voice shaking, “…breathe, you’re good right Vi? Vi, say something, breathe, come on Violet, brea-”.

“I, I’m okay” Violet gasped out, cutting him off, voice shaky and weak. Violet felt a long exhale of relief leave Adam’s body, their bodies melting together. They stayed there for a moment, Adam’s arms keeping Violet upright, the back of her head resting on Adam’s chest, his chin resting atop her shiny brown waves. Violet’s knees were wobbly as oxygen returned to her with an intense head rush. “I’m dizzy” she mumbled, reaching for the bar and propping herself up on her elbows. She was aware of Adam’s reluctance to let her go, but she was overwhelmed by the intensity and the unexpected intimacy of her choking incident. She drew in a slow breath, throat burning, mouth watering, eyes squeezed shut tight as she tried to calm down. She dry heaved, and bile rose up her throat, but she swallowed it down. She dropped her forehead into her hands, chest heaving with each desperate inhale filling her greedy lungs.

“Let’s step outside, get some fresh air” Adam whispered to Violet, and she nodded weakly. He firmly gripped her bicep and helped her up, quickly readjusting her dress for her before slipping a $20 bill to the bartender and guiding Violet away from the crowd. She leaned into him, legs weak, lightheaded, allowing him to take more of her weight as he slipped her arm around his waist. They got outside and he propped her against the brick wall, and he leaned in, placing his hands against the wall above her shoulders and examining her face. She could smell his cologne; the one she bought him for his birthday last year

“Breathe Violet, Jesus…you’re sure you’re okay, yeah?” He asked again, genuine concern drawing his brows together. Violet nodded weakly, pressing a hand to her ribs gingerly and wincing. “I’m okay, that was just…a lot all at once” Violet mumbled. “Yeah…just focus on breathing, in and out” Adam’s eyes anxiously searched her face. “Did I hurt you?” he whispered, his eyes dropping to her lips. Violet licked her lips, flustered, and shook her head. He glanced down, eyes lingering at her cleavage, and placed a hand overtop of Violet’s, resting against her ribs. She wondered if he too could feel her heart beating overtime, pounding against her ribcage. A tear slowly trickled down her cheek. They breathed together, gasping, chests heaving and hitching as adrenaline slowly left their systems.

“Look at these two lovebirds!! Ow owww” a familiar voice called out. Startled, Adam and Violet looked up together, drawing apart. Three women, Violet’s girlfriends, approached, laughing and looking smug. “Sneaking away for some private time? You dirty little dogs, I called it. I knew you two would…wait, what’s wrong?”. They stopped, taking in Violet’s flushed and tear stained face, Adam’s pale and worried face, and the way that Violet held her ribs.

so glad it’s the weekend

written from female patient perspective, green is for fiancé, pink is patient, blue is nurse, orange is anesthesia

******************************************************

You were scheduled for major heart surgery for tomorrow afternoon and you were very anxious about it. You’ve never had surgery before so you didn’t know what to expect at all. Thankfully your fiancé is wonderful and has been to all your appointments with you to help you navigate the process. He knew how anxious you were about it so he packed your hospital bags and bought a couple of things that were suggested in order to help you feel more comfortable after surgery.

It was bedtime and you couldn’t help but start to feel even more anxious about what tomorrow might bring.

How are you feeling sweetheart?

I’m scared

That’s okay, that’s normal honey. Please remember i’m going to be there for you every step of the way. Okay?

It’s okay if you’re not, it’s a lot of work hon-

What? No, no I’m going to be there no matter what. You’re the most important person to me. You know that right?

You nodded

Good, make sure to get some sleep in princess. You have a big day ahead of you. I love you

He kissed your forehead and wrapped his arms around you.

the morning of

You woke up to your fiancé carefully reading some of the papers from your last appointments at the kitchen table.

Good morning beautiful, did you sleep okay?

He asked softly as he studied your face. You had been having trouble sleeping from anxiety recently.

You shrugged, you felt tired, anxious, and wanted to cry but you tried your best to hold it in. You failed and your eyes started to well up.

Oh sweetheart, come here

He said as he pulled his chair out and turned it to face you. He was quite tall so he was at eye level sitting down while u stood up. He pulled you in and wiped your tears.

It’s going to be okay love. You’re so strong and you have amazing doctors. I know it’s scary but there is nothing you need to worry about okay?

You just nodded and he gently stroked your hair to help you calm down.

He had packed your bags and taken you to the car where he would be driving an hour to get to the hospital.

You got checked in and were taken to your room. You were given a scratchy blue gown, a bouffant cap, and socks. Your boyfriend helped you change and comfort you as they ran some final tests and started an IV.

See, you’re doing such a good job love.

You finished signing paperwork and your partner asked your surgeon a couple of questions that he had.

Alright, we’re going to be taking you into the OR and get you prepped for surgery okay dear. Your fiance may stay with you during the prep and anesthesia if you would like.

You turned to look at him and without you having to say anything he agreed.

He held your hand as you were wheeled on your bed to the operating room. It was a bright, cold, sterile room with tons of machinery and tools waiting to be used. You were lifted onto the table and adjusted to be better positioned. Your arms were restrained and the nurses had draped your body in a sheet and warm blankets. They needed to have more access to put monitors on your chest.

Your oxygen is a little low honey, i’m going to give you this cannula for just a little extra support ok.

The nurse said as he placed a cannula on you. They continued setting up around you and your fiancé did his best to help comfort you.

Okay honey, it’s time for you to take a nap for us okay? I’m going to put this mask on you and I just want you to breathe normally. It’s just oxygen sweetie.

Your finance held your hand carefully worried he’d mess anything up. You panicked for a moment and squeezed his hand hard letting out a small wince.

There was a light purple foam block placed under your head for support and there was a clear anesthesia mask beside you.

He held the mask softly against your face and you could hear soft hissing. You let out a small whimper as you got startled by the insert of another IV.

Are you okay baby?

Your fiancé said leaning down closed to you to study your face.

Yeah, just nervous

You said softly being a little embarased by your fear of needles.

It’s going to be okay sweetheart I promise

Okay dear, this is where the gas will take over okay.

You nodded starting to really feel overwhelmed. You didn’t notice but there had been straps placed under your head to go around the mask to harness it on which the anesthesiologist did. He tilted your head up and got a tighter grip before securing the harness on your mask.

You looked up at your fiancé scared who was holding your hand and caressing your forehead with one hand and your hand with the other.

You’re doing such a great job sweetie, I love you

I love you more

Alright it should be kicking in soon here, countdown for us from 10 dear

“10…9…8….8..-“ your eyes slowly rolled back and you were out.

The anesthesiologist got a tighter grip of your mask, tilted your head closer, and started pumping. After, they had intubated you, taped the tube down, and your eyes as well.

Your fiance was able to give you a kiss on the forehead before heading out.

Your surgery went on for a little over six hours. Your fiancé waited patiently for you at the hospital. Your surgery went well but there were some complications with blood loss. You were kept on the ventilator after surgery and moved to the ICU. You were asleep for another two hours until you slowly woke up. You were groggy from all the medication but you did notice the ventilator which scared you.

Hi beautiful

You went to talk but you couldn’t. You stared to reach for the ventilator.

Hey don’t pull that sweetheart it’s there to help you

He carefully but quickly moved your hand away which caused you distress as you were processing what was happening. The monitors changed in rhythm and got a little louder signaling your distress.

I know you’re scared honey but you don’t need to be okay? You are safe, your surgery went well, you are so strong and I’m going to be here for you alright?

He gently wiped some tears that were coming down your face and keeping a very calm tone to help you relax. Your eyes were getting heavy from exhaustion, your body couldn’t help but become so tired and overworked.

It’s okay to sleep sweetheart. I want you to be able to relax as much as possible honey.

He caressed your forehead as you fell asleep.

**********************************************************

Goth Chick didn’t wake up in the hospital, she came to. She remembered what it looked like from last time, it looked just like this time. Goth got her GHB dosage wrong again and was paying the price. 

Part 5

(Non photo version)

Breaking news: It’s been 24 hours after the kidnap victim was last seen with paramedics…

Matt began to feel the weight of his slim body and the pain from his wrists as he hung from them. His vision slowly returned, and he found himself staring at the concrete floor of a dark room. The grogginess lifted as awareness returned. He saw exposed walls and a garage door. Blacked-out windows lined one side. Next to him stood a monitor on a cart, with wires running from it and attached to his chest. The monitor displayed his pulse, slow and steady. Matt closed his eyes, remembering…

Finally safe in the back of the cold ambulance, Matt had felt secure in the hands of the paramedics. Mike looked over Matt’s body and said, “I’m going to give you another exam and check you one more time.” Matt nodded in understanding as Mike brought his gloved hands to Matt’s chest. Mike felt over Matt’s pecs and pinched them softly, then squeezed his nipples and moved down his stomach, pushing against his belly. “You seem to be dehydrated. I’m going to start an IV.” Mike opened Matt’s arm, found a vein, and quickly set up the drip. As Matt looked away, Mike took a syringe and plunged it into the IV line. He watched the liquid flow down the tube and into Matt’s body. It took effect quickly—Matt’s eyes grew dazed. Mike knew he didn’t have long. “You didn’t think you were done, did you?” Mike lowered his mask. Matt’s eyes widened in fear as he tried to move, but his body was already paralyzed. He slumped to one side, his arms going limp and falling off the stretcher as his world went dark.

Matt shook his head, opening his eyes and returning to the present. He hung there for what seemed like an eternity until Mike opened the door and walked in. “Good, you’re awake,” Mike said as he approached. “How are we feeling today?” Matt didn’t respond. Mike checked the electrodes. “These seem good.” He picked up two more, sticking one on Matt’s head and the other at the base of his cock. “I sure hope you can take a lot of this next part,” Mike told him.

Without warning, electricity flowed through Matt’s body. He arched and twitched as the intensity increased by the second.

“I don’t have any more time with you,” Mike said, running his fingertips over Matt’s tense, convulsing body. “It’s time I share you with the world. This will be our last time together.” As he finished speaking, Mike turned off the ECT machine and let Matt hang there. He pressed a button on the wall that released Matt from his bonds. Matt immediately collapsed to the floor.

Surprisingly, Matt quickly got up and made a run for the door Mike had come through. He ripped the wires out of the ECT machine as he raced up the stairs. He found himself inside a typical middle-American house. Bursting through the basement door, Matt spotted the nearest exit and slammed his body against it, fumbling with the lock until he finally got it open. He sprinted into the secluded backyard enclosed by a high wooden fence. He made it only a few more steps before—

Pop!

A loud sound came from behind him, followed by instant pain across his body. Matt’s muscles locked up, and he fell to the grass, his escape ended.

Mike walked over to Matt’s twitching body. “Why did you do that?” he asked. Mike grabbed a syringe and plunged it deep into the side of Matt’s leg. “That won’t happen again.” He pulled the taser dart out. Matt still tried to get up. “Stop,” Mike said, “before you hurt yourself.” Mike came up behind him, wrapped an arm around Matt’s neck, and squeezed. Matt’s hands came up, pulling desperately at Mike’s arm, but his body quickly went limp. Uncontrollable twitches rippled through him as the last movements faded. Once it was done, Mike dragged Matt’s body back inside. “You’re all dirty now. I have to clean your body.”

Mike carried him into the master bathroom and pulled him into the walk-in shower. He turned the water on, wetting Matt’s entire body. Dirt ran off his now-slick skin and down the drain. Mike grabbed a rag and poured a line of liquid soap down the middle of Matt’s chest to his cock. He ran the rag all over Matt’s body, making the skinny frame slick and clean. He checked every crevice, washing Matt by hand and rinsing away all the soap until he was perfectly clean.

Mike took advantage of the moment, sucking on Matt’s nipples and tasting the faint hint of salt as his tongue ran over them. He lifted Matt’s arms, feeling his toned biceps and running his hands through his armpits, then back down his chest to his navel, which was filled with water. Mike pushed a finger in, displacing most of the water, then pressed down one side to make sure the rest escaped. He continued lower to Matt’s perfect cock, slowly pulling on it and inspecting to ensure no soap remained. He took his time, fully throating Matt’s cock and measuring its length with his mouth. He felt it grow as he savored the taste. Mike moaned to himself as Matt’s full length hit the back of his throat. Quickly and without much warning, Matt’s cock exploded, filling Mike’s mouth with warm cum. Mike made sure to leave no mess, then turned the shower off. He removed Matt from the shower, dried his body.

Mike moved him to the bed and displayed his body, stretching Matt’s arms out to his sides and opening his legs to a 45-degree angle.

Just in time, he set his phone on a tripod at the foot of the bed. He started a FaceTime call with a blocked number. As soon as it connected, Matt’s skinny, toned body took center stage. Bidding began immediately. At the top of the screen, a countdown showed 20 seconds remaining. The numbers shot up: $10,000… $100,000… $475,000. Sold.

With that, Mike quickly loaded Matt into the back of a van and drove to the GPS coordinates he had been given for delivery. He left a message on top of Matt’s body: “I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Congrats.”

Quite unusual Micheal spent quite a while in hospital when e was a kid and teenager. From various reasons he had to undergo surgery and general anesthesia for 8 times between his 7th and 17th birthday:

Chapter 1

1989 – Age 7

Procedure: Adenoidectomy (removal of the adenoids)

Michael's first operation and first general anaesthetic. Everything is unfamiliar: admission, changing into theatre clothing, the anaesthetic mask and the journey into the operating theatre.

Chapter 2

1990 – Age 8

Procedure: Bilateral insertion of tympanostomy tubes (grommets)

Returning to the same children's ward feels surprisingly familiar. Michael recognises routines, staff and the comforting atmosphere of the hospital.

Chapter 3

1991 – Age 9

Procedure: Circumcision

Now more confident, Michael pays closer attention to the preparations and begins observing the people around him rather than focusing only on himself.

Chapter 4

1993 – Age 11

Procedure: Emergency surgery for acute scrotum

An unplanned admission introduces a more urgent side of hospital life while reinforcing Michael's growing trust in the operating theatre team.

Chapter 5

1994 – Age 12

Procedure: Open reduction and internal fixation of a forearm fracture

A traumatic injury brings Michael back once again. He notices the increasingly sophisticated teamwork between surgeons, nurses and the anaesthesia staff.

Chapter 6

1996 – Age 14

Procedure: Surgical removal of all four wisdom teeth under general anaesthesia

For the first time, induction is performed intravenously with propofol instead of an anaesthetic mask. Michael is now old enough to appreciate the technical aspects of modern anaesthesia.

Chapter 7

1997 – Age 15

Procedure: Excision of a pilonidal abscess (pilonidal sinus)

Another short admission reinforces how familiar the hospital has become. Many routines now feel almost second nature.

Chapter 8

1998 – Age 16

Procedure: Tonsillectomy

Thousands of children walked through the hospital's entrance every year.

Most of them stayed for only a few days.

Some were frightened.

Some were curious.

Many would remember little more than the smell of disinfectant, a favourite nurse, or the taste of ice cream after surgery.

For the doctors, nurses and anaesthesia teams, each child was different.

For the hospital, every day followed a familiar rhythm.

Admissions.

Operations.

Recoveries.

Discharges.

Then new families arrived, and the cycle quietly began again.

Among those thousands of children was one boy who kept coming back.

His name was Michael.

His first operation was uncomplicated.

No one imagined it would be followed by another.

And then another.

Over the next nine years, he would undergo eight operations under general anaesthesia.

The hospital changed during those years.

New equipment appeared.

Older monitors disappeared.

Staff members came and went.

Some familiar faces remained.

Michael changed, too.

He entered the hospital for the first time as a shy seven-year-old who had never seen an operating theatre.

He left it for the last time as a confident sixteen-year-old who could almost predict the sequence of events from admission to recovery.

With every visit, his fears became smaller.

His curiosity became greater.

What had once seemed mysterious gradually became familiar.

He began to notice details that most patients never saw.

The carefully prepared operating lists.

The reassuring rhythm of the anaesthesia team.

The quiet concentration before induction.

The almost effortless cooperation between surgeons, nurses and anaesthesia assistants.

Without ever planning to, he became an attentive observer of a world that most people experience only while falling asleep.

This is his story.

Not because his operations were unusual.

Most of them were routine.

Not because his recoveries were extraordinary.

They were reassuringly uneventful.

His story is worth telling for a different reason.

It shows how an ordinary children's hospital, through kindness, routine and remarkable professionalism, can transform fear into trust.

And how, sometimes, a child leaves the operating theatre with something far more lasting than a successful operation.

He leaves with confidence.

With curiosity.

And with memories that remain vivid long after the scars have faded.