#chronicisms

the hospital has been interesting the last few weeks to say the very least. half the staff are walking on eggshells, sullivan's threat of restructuring looming over their heads anxiously while the other half seem to be pissed off about the whole thing. today, though, the hallways are buzzing with something else entirely and tess can't decide if she finds the whole thing amusing or disturbing. for now, she'll lean towards the former. "you hear about the xray room?" she hums, taking a seat next to malcolm in the attendings lounge. "the interns are calling it undiegate."

In the end I’m reaching toward a disability politics of transness, not one of simple analogy, but one that delves into the lived experiences of our bodies, that questions the idea of normal and the notion of cure, that values self-determination, that resists shame and the medicalization of identity—a politics that will help all of us come home to our bodies.

her shift, like many do, started far too early. arriving at four in the morning is nothing new, but each time she finds herself in this position -- it takes longer for her to find any energy. two hours in and she's finished her coffee, though it's had little effect. elbows drop on to the raised counter, hands running over her face; she'll have to make another trip to the coffee cart sooner rather than later. out of the corner of her eye, she spots someone walking up to her, hands still covering her face. with a sigh, she lifts her head to find evan. "please tell me you have a latte with you. i'm dying here." a brow arches as she turns to him, before adding: "or that you're as exhausted as i am. misery loves company. i'll accept either."