Charlestown ma car accident today

Akira Kamishiro was a very successful manga author, who was diagnosed with blood cancer one day. He regretted the way he lived, where he could only build up empty relationships. Angry at his mother for asking him to send her some money, he died in a car accident. He was given a chance to choose his new mother and reincarnate in another world. Akira, not wanting to have a repeat of his past life, d ... Read Drawing: The Greatest Mangaka Becomes A Skilled “Martial Artist” In Another World - Chapter 64 - MangaPuma. Read more at https://mangapuma.com/drawing-the-greatest-mangaka-becomes-a-skilled-martial-artist-in-another-world/chapter-64

Sorry if the formatting is weird I’m on mobile. I (21m) lost my high school best friend (21m) 8 months ago in a gruesome car accident, we had been estranged for 3 years because of high school drama that now feels dumb, but I had wanted to get back in contact with him since I had felt we had grown enough as people to reconnect and continue our friendship. The news of his death shocked me and I couldn’t believe it at first. I cried for weeks and even to this day I’ll tear up when I drive by his house, remember the things we would do, or see someone wearing jorts (he loved wearing jorts). A couple days after his death I had learned from friends that had still kept in contact with him that even in the time we were estranged he still called me his best friend, this made me feel worse and filled me guilt for not reaching out sooner when he was still alive. I went to his funeral to gain some kind of closure but if anything I feel like that made it worse, he had an open casket funeral and you could see that part of his face was bruised from the accident despite being covered in makeup. I cried silently as I said goodbye to him. I learned at the funeral that 6 months before he passed his father had also died and it pained me that I wasn’t there to help him or to support him through that loss. I don’t regret going to the funeral but I feel like my mental health really worsened after the funeral. A week after his funeral I started having dreams about him. These dreams are very vivid and feel incredibly real, I won’t go into explicit detail about the dreams because I cherish them dearly and I would like to keep them private but in my dreams it’s as if he hadn’t died and we’re hanging out liked we used to, I wake up from these dreams and I immediately start to cry, these dreams have persisted for months although they’ve gotten less frequent they still have me crying whenever I dream of him. Sometimes I’ll have nightmares that we’re both in a car accident and I watch him die infront of me not being able to do anything to save him, these are the worst. His birthday is coming up soon and it reminds me of the times he used to tease me for being older than me(by 4 months) and now I’ll always be older than him. I wish I could go back in time and tell him how much he meant to me and be his friend again. I don’t know how to live with this guilt or if I’ll ever stop feeling this horrible. I don’t know how to deal with this loss or if I even have the right to mourn him since I never got back in touch with him. I miss him so much. While I am in the process of getting into therapy it’s taking a while so I thought that posting here would be a healthy way of working through some emotions. Thank you to anyone that took the time to read through this I just really needed to let this out.

my aunt recently died from cancer. it was all so quick, diagnosis to death was about three weeks. she’d been having pain for years from a car accident and her dr just loaded her up on opioids so it probably masked the cancer for awhile. the day she goes into the hospital, she’s lost her vision from brain lesions and she calls my mom saying they’re mother is in the room, telling her she has brain cancer and that she’s going to go with her parents. my aunt’s phone calls with my mom featured stories my mom believes my aunt was too young to remember or know. she gets the cancer diagnosis about a week later (in lungs, spread to brain).
the night she died we were sitting around her corpse in her living room before the coroner came to take her. it was cold because they had a fan put in the room for her but for about 20 seconds one of my thighs felt really warm, like someone had been sitting on it like when you come into a classroom to a warm chair (lol). the next day we’re in her house, her corpse is at the funeral home, we’re about to bye to my uncle and cousins before our flight and it feels like someone shoved my purse. no one was around.
i tell my mom and sister about these but they didn’t feel anything odd while at my aunt’s house. it’s weird because they were a lot closer to my aunt than i ever was but i can’t help thinking it was her that i felt. when my grandma died, another aunt claimed the towel in my grandma’s bathroom (the room she died in) kept falling off the hook by itself, and when my dad was in the CCU a few years ago he’d been saying that all his friends were dying but he had a choice (drs didn’t think he’d live, two of his best friends had died within the three years prior). i want to believe in any afterlife but the theory that’s there’s nothing seems more plausible to me, however, stories like these always get me thinking there’s something after this…

I can definitely feel already that I did too much, but I couldn't let him suffer!! He needs a big dog crate too, because he's a bit of a chunky boy at 12lbs, AND spicy, so he can't be ambushed into a small carrier even if he can technically fit lol. I had to carry him probably about 500 feet to my car, and up 21 stairs in my third floor walk up.
shit hurts inside my pelvis. like I could have torn something. I've honestly been feeling great in recovery and this will be the third time I've pushed it too hard because of this and assuming I can do more. I didn't feel any sharp pains like something tore but it definitely ached a little to be lugging him around.
do you think something tore? do you think I could have done enough damage that I should be concerned/make my way to urgent care today?

Hi Dubai Petrol Heads,
What are your thoughts on this car? The vin is wddZf8fbxka537698, from what I have found it's been in an accident but I'm not experienced enough to judge if it's really problematic or not.
Thanks for your advice
https://dubai.dubizzle.com/motors/used-cars/mercedes-benz/e-class/2023/5/23/mercedes-e350-amg-gcc-2019-very-clean-2-474---31b2df207617454bbc46e3b32e83e27c/

Long story short, SD(12), who lives out of state and spends school holidays including summer here, got the wild idea that her BFF should spend the first week of summer here with her; and because BM wanted it to happen and BFF’s parents needed their ADHD child out of their hair while they move house, the plane tickets were purchased before we could say No.
So now I have two hyperactive 12-year-olds in my two-bedroom house. I’m literally drinking my coffee on the porch because there’s nowhere to be alone inside. I’m really not a kid person and I’m a true introvert, my social energy drains easily. I maxed out on their energy after about two hours yesterday: talking over each other, bickering, scream-singing, pestering me with questions and forcing me to watch YouTube.
On top of that, my husband and BM have been in all-out warfare for a week and I’ve been stuck watching all the drama unfold over the all-parents-and-stepparents group text. Then, I had to pick SD and BFF up from the airport by myself (due to unexpected and unavoidable circumstances) and BM tried to micromanage the pickup as some sort of power play?? She literally tried to make me get out of the car and meet the kids (and SD’s grandmom, who they flew with) at baggage claim. And I’m like, No, I’m in A CAR that’s ALREADY BLOCKING TRAFFIC, WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO GET OUT???
No to mention, husband has been all wound up all week because he’s been fighting with BM (and not getting his way), and because he doesn’t really want this kid here, and because he just always goes into an anxiety spiral before SD gets here; and now he’s pissed beyond belief at ME because I had the AUDACITY to point out that’s he’s been unnecessarily combative towards me and dismissive of my needs/thoughts/opinions.
I’m pretty sure I had a literal panic attack yesterday before I left to get the kids, and was on the verge of another one this morning. I woke up at 5am and my thoughts immediately started spiraling and I’ve been up ever since.
I do have a friend’s birthday celebration to go to today, and a therapist appointment on Thursday (I go weekly). But GOOD GOD, I feel so out of control in my own home.

People settle. I obviously can't say that about everyone, some people don't, and I like to believe that most people are doing the best that they can. But I think most people live life half-heartedly. Just going through the motions. Reading through the "script", saying their lines, until the curtain draws. It's no wonder that society is so miserable (ie: depression, anxiety, alcoholism, drug addiction, suicide, mass murder, etc.)
The thing is, at the end of the day, to live this way is a choice. It's true that the information is scarce, nobody is taught to respect life from a young age. School doesn't teach it. Parents don't teach it because they don't know it. Society doesn't teach it. The mental health field doesn't teach it. Religion most certainly doesn't teach it. It's almost entirely absent from all domains: secular and religious, public and private. That means a young human being must go in search of it.
I suppose, in part, that's healthy. If there were no search involved, it wouldn't be authentic. Every single one of us must make peace with life on our own, there's no getting around it, unless you decide not to make peace with it at all (and die by suicide, whether the overt one or the more common slow 'rot til you die' approach). On the other hand, though, it's reflective of the fact that our society is so fearful. This is why I cannot take the whole mental health / therapy / psychology field seriously: none of them talk about the simple fact that we are all facing an existential crisis - a crisis about what it means to be alive. The problem is not mental, it's spiritual, and it's about our views on life and how we relate to the world. The society would rather live in ignorance and pretend these questions don't exist rather than confront them. Because to confront them can be very terrifying. The truth about life is not comfortable.
In short, the information is scarce. But even so, it is still a choice to to live this way at the end of the day. There's the old proverb (I have no idea from where) that says "when the student is ready, the master appears". That's because, at the end of the day the biggest block isn't the scarcity of the information, it's our own resistance to the truth. Once you are ready to open your eyes, surely you'll start finding things that resonate. And that's the thing: the external information only serves as confirmation for what you already knew to be true inside of you. I think we all know these deeper truths on some level, that's why people will go to war and kill and die for their beliefs - it's the ultimate form of "compensating" for something, something which they know to be false.
It's odd to me, because there seems to be a sort of war on truth. The new New Age belief seems to be that there is no objective truth at all, which makes no sense, because in that case they wouldn't even be able to make case for that point. We all know deep down that some things are more true than others. I'm a fan of humility, and I'm fine with admitting that "all I know is I know nothing". But that doesn't mean I'm going to eat my cereal with poison instead of milk tomorrow morning.
It's no wonder, then, that "rationalists" or whatever you want to call them hate the whole New Age think. I don't consider myself New Age. I don't consider myself anything, really, but I understand that there's some overlap with what I talk about and spirituality. I'm OK with that. What "rationalists" miss, however, is the mystery of the whole thing. It cannot be entirely understood (even if I know enough to know I would rather eat my cereal with milk - I still cannot explain to you why I like my favorite cereal).
People settle.
The truth is, as far as I have been able to see, that your life is up to you. Certainly some people have it worse than others, and I'm not disputing that. It's not my business to go to some starving kid in a third world country and say "Hey bud your life is up to you". That's ridiculous. On the other hand, however, any of us who are fortunate enough to be on a website like this most likely have the tools to be able to do something cool with their life. And I always cite the example of Viktor Frankl, a Jewish psychologist who was imprisoned in a Nazi labor camp. He said that he was free to choose his attitude despite that horrific situation, and if he can do it in those circumstances, I'm not sure that any of us have an excuse, either. (Not to say he was jumping for joy in a concentration camp, but he did choose to hold out hope, and he survived. I was criticized for talking about this once on Facebook - I soon learned this was not the best platform for my writing.)
If you've read any of my stuff, you know I like to mix more broader-based truths, as I see them, with more personal details. I think it helps illustrate my points, and I also like talking about it. It's part of my whole "enjoyment of life" thing.
I recently wrote a post about how "the material is good", speaking about my music but also my message. Today's post will be similar. Yesterday I got together with my band to talk about our new repertoire going forward. I write the vast majority of music though I do appreciate the contributions they make and also don't consider them replaceable. Anyway, we met at my house and I showed them 10-12 songs that I like for our band going forward: some quite old (10-15 years), some intermediate (3-5 years), and some recent (from 1 week to 1 year ago). They liked 9 of them and the other 3 were a maybe.
Like I said, I've had some of these songs for 10-15 years. Some of them I've had the privilege of playing live, but only a couple of times, but the vast majority no. I remember when I was 22 years old it was my dream to make a living with this music... I really feel like I had a message there. One year later, in AA, I would share in a meeting and flagellate myself by saying that "me and my best bud had a message, what it was, I don't know" - and everybody laughed (this was one thing that drove me away from AA, despite me remaining sober for 9.5 years as of writing: the self-condemnation). But that was wrong. I, we (my best friend and I) did have a message. I just didn't know exactly what it was.
Now I know, as much as I can put it into words, I suppose. Life sucked for me. Yeah, I was materially well-off, just like Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. But like them, particularly like Dylan, I found no joy in life. No meaning. I did not feel accepted. Girls did not seem to like me. I can relate deeply to Dylan in that sense. My life sucked - money was not enough for me. But rock and roll, man, that made me feel alive. I could share my emotions, I could play and sing and dance, I could get my aggression out, and hey... girls took notice of me. I had never seen girls pay attention to me like after they did when I got up on stage. It was wild.
I would never say I did it or do it only for girls. I had one guy tell me that one time, and hey, at least he was honest. But that wasn't my case. Still, it was a nice side benefit. I think they were attracted to the same thing I was: that feeling of being alive.
Me and my best bud used to say "rock is life", half-jokingly, but actually in a serious sense, too. I think I coined this term, but I can't be sure, and in fairness we discovered what rock and roll meant together. He was the Eric to my Dylan. Luckily we didn't blow anybody's brains out. Anyway, if I recall correctly, it was because I wanted that feeling of rock, being up on stage, to apply to my entire life. Not just being on stage. All of my life was my stage. Thus, "rock is life". And I very distinctly remember part of it being unapologetic.
Just a quick note, for those who don't know me, that I don't glorify Harris and Klebold. The only reason I'm talking about them at all is because I've recently been doing a dive into the Columbine shooting because I'm fascinated by what could drive two kids to do something that horrific. The most interesting part, to me, is that Dylan and Eric weren't all that different from me and my friends. In fact, I think they actually had some valid grievances about life and about society (though not valid enough to justify what they did). I believe what I am doing is rooted in something similar to what they felt, but my conclusion about the course of action is the exact opposite: not the destruction of life, but rather, the celebration. In all of its facets - including the ugly.
In AA they called it "living life on life's terms". That's what I learned to do. At 22 years old, in the midst of my rock and roll dream, I had to get sober. I hit a guy on a bike in a drunk driving "accident" that was obviously my fault. Thank God he was okay, and I didn't run or anything, I made sure he was OK and I got arrested after confessing. Soon after I got sober, and I've been sober ever since. I'm very grateful to that - but I had to give up on my rock and roll dream.
Or that's what I thought, at least. I had no idea that 10 years later I'd be given the opportunity to play these songs again, for audiences that enjoy and appreciate my music. And why? Why me? Firstly, it's a gift. A gift from "God", if you will, or from life (I don't actually believe in a deity). I'm good at making music. It comes naturally to me. Where I come into is that I never gave up on myself or my music. Well, I sort of did at the beginning of sobriety, but even that was a great example of not giving up on myself. Deep down I think I knew that more important than the songs was the message behind them - I mean, in the way I choose to live my life. So while I was perhaps wrong to think that my music was not important, I never gave up on myself, and eventually that lead me to rediscovering my music a few years later. And here we are now.
I've fought for it. Getting into a band was sort of by chance, but configuring things in such a way that made sense has been a fight. We had a drummer who didn't like to play original music, only covers. We argued, and eventually he made the decision to leave without getting sacked. I told him I understood and we parted with a hug, no hard feelings. We had a bass player, a great guy and still my friend, who is a true musician and gets paid to play in cover bands and stuff. He always viewed our project as secondary. We had to cut him, too. And then there was a keyboardist who didn't fit our groove. We cut him, too.
In a way, it was all my brainchild. The rhythm guitarist is perhaps my best friend here overseas (by the way, 1 year into sobriety I moved overseas to help find myself). I told him to pick up a bass. The new drummer was on the same page as he and I in terms of the music we wanted to make. I proposed we do a power trio. And that's what we did. And people here are loving it.
If you look at the accomplishments themselves, they're not actually that impressive. Just a few local shows and one small show outside of town. But there's something about the reception we're getting. It's not only positive, like, "hey, I liked your band". People genuinely seem to be enjoying our music and giving praise that goes beyond what is expected in order to be nice / friendly. It's an amazing feeling, and confirmation of what I think I knew to be true 10 years ago: my music is good, and life is worth it. I think the fact that I've continued fighting for 10 years just makes the message even stronger - I never gave up, even through the bad times.
All of this is to say that I never imagined I would be here today. Maybe this sounds like an Oscar award speech or something, which is ridiculous given the "minimal" achievements my band and I have had. But to me they're not minimal. Again, it's not necessarily about the material success, but rather the spiritual success of knowing that I took a stand somewhere and contributed something valuable to the world. And had a lot of fun along the way, too. That's worth more than gold (and who doesn't love gold?)
I couldn't write a whole post about my life without mentioning the girl I like right now. Man, I'm very attracted to her, and I "love" her, whatever that means. Maybe it's ridiculous since I hardly know her, but I think about her a lot, and I'd like to get to know her more. If you're reading this, no, it's not the girl I met on Reddit, though I am fond of that girl, too, and wouldn't mind hearing from her again. But yeah, the girl in real life is great.
It's weird. As much as I'd like to get her in bed or whatever (it'd be fun), it's almost like I just want to be discovered or something. I feel there's a lot going on with me, and I'm eager to share it with the world. I think it's valuable. Of course, she is dealing with her own issues, so it's best to go slow. I'm OK with being patient, she's worth it. (I wouldn't mind getting to know her, either.)
I think what I never understood with love was that it's just a plus, not the main event. People say this all the time, but it's difficult to digest when you're lonely. It's true though. You have to make your own life the main event. IMO that doesn't mean "create a great social life, go to clubs, go to the gym" and all these other material milestones that people create. Nah. For me, it's a more spiritual question. What do you want your life to be about? Figure that out then embark on the journey. Love is a wonderful stop on that journey. No movie or story would be complete without it, right? Well, life wouldn't be, either.
Anyway, all of this is to say that life is worth it. It's a lot of bullshit sometimes. The day-to-day can be grueling, even if you're lucky like me and have a job that you somewhat enjoy. And then you've got to clean the house, pay taxes, deal with people's dysfunction (including your own)... it's hard! But it's like I said earlier, life is what you make of it. That's my whole message. It's really extremely simple. Simple, but not easy, I guess. But I guess I just decided that I was going to give it a try (more than once, actually), and I'm really, really glad I did.

I accidentally deleted my post and so I’m reposting (M27) and me (F25) I met him when I was 19 and he was 20 about to turn 21. I fell for him hard, I was so in love with him. A year into the relationship he became really bad alcoholic (finishing off a large bottle of vodka in a day) he would invite me over and want me to drink with him, his house mate and his brother. He would always urge me to keep up with him in drinking. I was a very easy going person who had a hard time saying no. I would drink until I got the spins and was sick to my stomach. A few times I got really sick at his house and throwing up and he would get mad at me and be mean to me while I was sick. I started to realize this was an issue, he was irritable most days (we went to college together) he would complain about his stomach hurting him. When I tried confronting him about with concern and care, he denied having any issue and gaslit me. He would hide his bottles. He would come to school drunk or hung over. He got in an accident (no other cars involved) and totaled his car. His mom had not listened to me when I brought up him having a drinking problem, after that happened his mom sorta acknowledged that there was something wrong there. He admitted he might have a problem. I poorer out all his bottles and cleared out his room of all the empties too and helped clean up his room (it had become a pit) he was not feeling well enough to do most of it because he was very depressed about his car being totaled (he really liked his car) I thought he was on the road to recovery. He started getting better at sneaking. I found him out a couple of times when he would basically treat me like a booty call. I would only go because I wanted to spend time with him. One time when I found out I had a long talk with him and he agreed to give me his ID because he didn’t feel like he could resist going back to booze. He ended up snagging his passport from his moms file cabinet. He got found out again. He started distancing himself from me even more and I was hurting so bad by this point. I had started isolating myself from friends because I didn’t want them to ask where my bf was. I just started throwing myself into my studies. I was on the brink of breaking up with him. His mom called me crying saying that he was drinking mouth wash and she thought he was possessed and he had tried to hit his brother. She told me he locked himself in his room and was laying down and they couldn’t tell if he was breathing. She begged me to come over and try to talk to him. I was so mentally distraught and I loved him and didn’t want him to die. I rushed over and when I got there he was not responsive and locked in his room. I wasn’t sure if he was breathing. His brother and mom were crying. So I climbed in through his small window (I’m 5’3 so I’m pretty small) I got into his room and shook him awake. He was hostile with me and told me to go away. I told him I didn’t want him to kill himself and told him he was hurting his family. After an hour of trying to get through to him with reason he finally agreed that the way he was living wasn’t good. He decided that day to try to get sober. I stayed with him at his house for a couple weeks to help him detox. He was having a lot of withdrawal symptoms. (Ps while he was an alcoholic I had found that he was texting a bunch of chicks trying to hook up with them. None of them were receptive to his advances) I had a long talk with him one night about all the cheating behaviors, I told him I loved him but I couldn’t stick around for that. I had every intention of breaking up with him after he got done with his withdrawals but he cried and pleaded with me that he was sorry and that he was drunk and didn’t mean to do any of it. I decided to forgive him because he claimed he wanted to be a better boyfriend. It took a long time and a lot of long talks for me to start rebuilding trust with him. I come from a dysfunctional family with a mom who is very controlling. When I didn’t come home for two weeks my mom started calling me telling me that if I was moving out I needed to come get my things. Meanwhile his mom was being toxic and saying things like “I liked you better when you were a drunk” and “why don’t you go get a job you lazy fuck?” So I decided he needed to get away from that for a bit so I arranged a trip to visit my brother who lived 6 hours away.
Not long after that trip I moved in with him and his family. Things were really good for a long time and it seemed like he was really trying to be a better person. Covid happened, he dropped out of school and I kept going. He asked me to marrying him (proposing with a piece of twine) he had no plans on when, where or how to save up for it. But then he chose to work at a bar as a bouncer with his brother and his friend and I told him it made me uncomfortable. Since he is a recovered alcoholic and had a history of cheating. I had a long talk with him about working towards a career and working towards a future together. Then that’s when things really spiraled out of control. He decided to run off to the navy, I begged him not to and tried to help him explore other avenues of ways to get into a career. I literally sobbed curled up on the floor in a bawl begging him not to do it and he coldly patted me on the back and said he was going. He left to boot camp making all these promises about sending me money while he was gone to help me with school and that he would buy us a house and we would get married after he finished boot camp. He didn’t want to get married before he left which gave me little security in the relationship. This move made me very worried about him relapsing on alcohol and also cheating. (People in the military drink a lot) btw we had been together for 4 1/2 years at this point.
He went to the navy for boot camp, I wrote him letters the whole time. I took care of his extremely needy mother. I cried a lot and was very depressed. I failed a couple classes because I couldn’t focus. (I’m an A-B average student, my gpa was 3.9) I wasn’t able to actually talk to him for 3 months. When he graduated I paid to fly out with his mom to see him. He seemed very traumatized when I saw him, he had lost a lot of weight. After that visit things long distance we’re very difficult. I came to see him as much as I could. I finally had come to terms with him being in the navy and I had decided to try to be more supportive and put my feelings aside. The second time I came to see him he started telling me that he wanted to get out and that he was anxious and depressed. So trying to be supportive, I told him if he wanted to get that he should try to get out. He was worried about what his mom would think of him. His mom had run around bragging to all her friends and coworkers. I told him he shouldn’t worry about what she thinks.
Well he decided to tell his mom about his choice to try to get out and she instantly called him a pussy and ridiculed him for wanting to leave. Probably because she didn’t want to have her bragging rights taken away.

My partner and I crossed overland into Cambodia today.
We arranged a private transfer to Phnom Penh, and pretty much straight away the driver picked up his “brother” to come with us.
He then drove for about 10 minutes before turning onto a dirt road to “go to his family’s home”. I told him we wanted to get out of the car and he wouldn’t stop.
We get to his house, he goes inside and comes out with a baby. Tells us the baby’s sick and needs to go to the hospital on the way. I tell him we’ll go with another driver instead then, and he takes the baby back inside and comes back out without it, continuing to drive us.
This was already too many red flags for my partner and me, so as soon as we pulled into the closest town about 5 minutes later I told the driver we’d changed our minds and wanted to stay the night there.
Now I am familiar with the “sick baby” routine and expect we would have been asked to pay for medical bills. But what else might we have avoided today?
We were about to drive for 5 hours on incredibly remote roads. I am wondering whether, once he realised the sick baby game wasn’t going anywhere with us, if perhaps we were at risk of express kidnapping or some other scam?
Interested to hear people’s theories and/or similar experiences.

My son's files on iphone, are they retrievable? My son was killed in a car accident and he had 2 iphones. Is there any way I can get access to his photos and files? I do not have his account information. Can these phones be used for anything?

I always loved taking pictures of abandoned places. It was vacation and I decided to go to as many abandoned places as I could. I already visited three and it was amazing. They were An abandoned church, hospital and a swimmingpool. So for the fourth day I went to an abandoned factory. I saw some pictures of it on the dark website. It's easier to find buildings there than having to search for the once that are already well known. I actually only work with the dark website for these places. I am always very careful, check if the websites aren't dangerous and I never talk to anyone online.
When I went into the building the air was different. There was way more oxygen than outside and there was this weird smell. It reminded me of burning metal, ozone and gun powder. It was a factory that was partly burned down so I wasn't very surprised of the smell. Like always I sended my location to my friends and parents and started exploring the place.
After looking around for a bit I heard some noises. I didn't think much of it thinking that it would be some animals or just the wind. But it still made me feel uncomfortable. I can't describe what it was. I just blamed it on my paranoia and shook the feeling off. I started taking some pictures of the wilderness that found a way in the building and when I checked them the images were completely black. Except for one. At fiest sight it looked normal but when you looked closer there was this big shadow that fell over the place. I already got nervous but than I heard the sound again. This time it was way harder than before. It sounded like a dog barking but it was incredibly sharp and it sounded like it was slowed down. Suddenly it stopped as fast as it came. I definitely did not feel safe so I grabbed my things and made my way out of there.
But when I went outside of the building, I saw that it was already night. Which couldn't even be possible because I arrived there in the morning and only stayed here for only an hour. This wasn't the only strange thing though. There were no sounds, no chirping no wind, nothing. It was also weird that there were no stars in the sky and no clouds. I couldn't see a thing so I took my flashlight out of my bag. I looked around but I was to scared to move until that awful noise came back. Every few seconds it became louder and louder. Until the point when blood was coming out of my ears. I finally was able to run. But no matter where I went it followed me behind. Until the noise suddenly just stopped. I looked around searching for a way out of the woods but there wasn't enough light to see anything clearly. I wanted to keep moving until I saw something.
It was around two meters long, it's skin was gray and rotting away. The only hair it had were just a couple of black strands that came out of it's head. It also had two black dots as eyes and no mouth. But you still could see it smiling trough the wrinkles that formed on his face.
Surprisingly enough it did nothing. It just stayed there, looking at me. After what felt like hours, my flight response finally kicked in and I ran as hard as I possibly could. But before I knew it I was back at the factory. Before I could gather my thoughts my stomach dropped when I heard that sound again. That horrid creature stood right behind me. I turned around, looked up at it's face and the smell from inside the building hit me again. It split it's face open in two and made a horrible noise. Everything went black.
I opened my eyes and saw that I was in a hospital. I couldn't move at all. Next to me were my parents. When they saw that I was awake they started crying. Apparently I was in a terrible car accident and was in a coma for almost a year
Later I heard that the building I said I visited, never existed.

I lost the most gorgeous and sweetest soul on earth my first dog Franklin. He was literally a puppy and he was only 2 years old. He was hit on impact by a car when he was outside on our patio, he was just sitting on the patio, and he usually runs around on our front lawn and immediately comes back but this time he saw cars he started chasing it, and he went down this narrow road. And since this neighborhood was brand new, the road was still dirt and dusty, and as the cars drove by I assume he got caught in a dust storm and couldn’t see and was tragically hit on impact. My whole family is heartbroken, but especially me and my older brother I personally don’t think I’m really gonna be happy again and I know it’s only been two days since the accident, but the hardest thing is going outside and remembering him wherever I go, it’s painful. And I sometimes can’t stop myself from crying all the time.

Hi there,
Just sharing my Chiari Surgery experience for anyone who is thinking about getting it done and wanting to hear about people's experiences/recovery.
I (43 f) just had my Chiari Decompression Surgery with duroplasty and C1 laminectomy at Weill Cornell with Dr Stieg in NYC on Wed 5/24 and was discharged home this AM (Sat 5/27). They were actually ready to discharge me on Fri 5/26 even — but because I live so far (5 hrs) from the specialty center, I felt more comfortable staying one more night, which they were fine with.
For background, I was just diagnosed with Chiari I.5 malformation (13 mm cerebellar tonsillar descent, with the obex or bottom of medulla being squished down there even lower) on MRI on 5/5/23. (No syrinx in the spine, though, fortunately.) I am so glad the neurosurgeon got me in so fast. Doctors including my neurologist had been blowing off my increasing symptoms for the past 5 years. (“Oh, it’s probably just migraines — oh, it’s probably just cluster headaches — oh it’s probably just neck strain.”) So frustrating! But once I got the MRI showing the Chiari, I just took the initiative to find a neurosurgeon to consult with. And Dr. Stieg’s team was very good about getting me in quickly. He did a full brain and spine MRI, with and without contrast, and consultation with me within 2 weeks of my reaching out to his team. I could already tell within 1-2 days post surgery that essentially all my major problems had been resolved (though of course there’s a lot of neck stiffness and soreness from the surgery itself, but it’s already so much better just 3 days post-surgery).
I had problems since at least 2018 including: Chiari headaches (excruciating, incapacitating collapsing to the floor moaning with my head in my hands headaches, triggered initially by coughing episodes — but then progressively over time even by just standing up too fast, yelling for the kids, bending or tilting my head wrong, by the end even sitting up or turning over in bed by the end). Also terrible chronic neck pain RIGHT at the base of my skull (that I thought had been caused/worsened by car accident whiplash, but now I think 100% caused by the Chiari -- since it seems to have pretty much resolved since the surgery). And also increasingly weird neurological symptoms due to the compression of the brain stem, including: trouble swallowing (seemed like I accidentally choke liquid down the wrong tube every single day when I took a drink), excessive drooling, numb/weak hands/clumsy hands, poor balance/coordination (walking into walks, trips/falls going up and down stairs, a few faint episodes), excessive yawning, and hands(not just a little — like shaking violently after every yawn or sneeze).
My surgery was at 7:30 AM. I had to show up at 5:45 so they could get me checked in and everything. The neurosurgeon and anaesthesiologist were very good about explaining what would be happening and answering any questions I had. They took special care talking about my anaesthesia (because in my case a sleep study had shown that the Chiari puts pressure on my brain stem, and has caused me to have central sleep apnea — different from obstructive apnea. It’s the brain signals telling my lungs to breathe don’t always get through at night. So that is part of why I’m always waking up in the middle of the night and still feeling tired in the morning.) So concerns about that were thoroughly discussed and they would use a CPAP mask to help with my breathing if needed. They still went with Methadone as IV painkiller as planned. The surgery took about 3 & 1/2 hours. (They told me 2-3, so pretty close). They will put your IV in of course and give you something to relax you and put you to sleep and you won’t remember anything afterward except them telling you the surgery is all done and it’s time to wake up.
I’m not going to lie, there was some pain obviously. But for me, it was manageable —never more than a 6-7, and with the Oxycodone and Tylenol they gave me, got me down to a 3 (on a 10-point pain scale) pretty fast. For the day of the surgery they had me on 10 mg Oxycodone dose immediately afterward, tapering down to 5 mg. I had some nausea the first day after surgery too, which the anaesthesia and pain meds can cause, I guess. But they gave me something for it whenever I complained and whatever they gave me worked quickly. The steroids for swelling also tend to cause some side effects -- high blood sugar, which they did finger pricks to check and which were always a little high -- though they didn't end up having to give me any insulin. And heartburn, which they gave me protonix for every morning. And Maalox once, when I complained about it still bothering me
They actually tapered me just the day after surgery down from Oxycodone to just regular Tylenol and muscle relaxant every 8 hours — but would check in with me regularly about pain of course and offer Oxycodone as needed or if it got worse. I did take just ONE more dose of Oxycodone that next night, the day after surgery — I think it’s my own fault for doing a little too much walking and self-directed P/T (trying to turn my neck a bit side to side to loosen the stiffness) that first day. So maybe give it a few days before you do much active attempt to turn/stretch the neck. (Don’t be a hero by trying to taper too soon — the one extra dose of Oxycodone I asked for that night provided me a lot of relief and allowed me a good night of sleep and was feeling much better the next morning and able to taper to Tylenol without a problem.)
But by two days post-surgery, I was doing really well and managing with just 3 Tylenol and 1/2 muscle relaxant every 8 hrs. Steroids too to keep down the swelling every 6 hours. The recovery has really been so good so far from what I had feared. Not so bad at all. They did give me some Oxycodone I can have at home if pain flares up again, but I don’t think I’ll need it.
Literally, as soon as I woke up from surgery, my very first sip of juice that I had, I realized I could swallow again without choking. By the day after surgery, the numbness in my hands had mostly abated. (That one I was worried about, because I know sometimes if nerve damage goes on too long it can be permanent so I thought the numbness and hand weakness might not resolve). I could sit/stand/turn over in bed etc without triggering the usual Chiari headaches. Some other symptoms that I didn’t even KNOW were related to my Chiari (a nagging constant earache in my left ear that my GP just always told me there was nothing wrong when she looked in there — miraculously also gone! Must have been due to blocked CSF or something).
I am already so happy I had this surgery done, even though my husband was nervous about it happening so quickly. I’d been suffering for 5 years already, with it impinging a lot on my quality of life, ability to play with or carry my own kids, and neurological symptoms can get worse over time, so as surgeon said — now that you know the diagnosis and likely solution, what are you waiting for?I do realize that everyone’s story is different and I am quite lucky that (so far) everything has gone according to plan, with such rapid and obvious symptom relief for me, incision healing seeming to go so well, etc — so bear in mind everyone’s situation and recovery is different and consult closely with your professionals. This is just my own story. But I had a *very* good experience and would definitely recommend the Chiari surgery to anyone who was suffering the level of symptoms that I was having.
I will second the recommendations others have made about taking stool softeners (and laxatives or suppositories if needed to get things going) in your first few days post-surgery. I am very sensitive to the constipating effects of opiates like Oxycodone (I went 8 days without pooping after my C-Section — by which time it was very tough and painful, as you can imagine). So although they were giving me stool softeners — Senna, and Miralax every day — when I still hadn’t gone for 3 days, I asked for prune juice, and when that didn’t work, and I was still straining and having trouble passing, I requested Milk of Magnesia. It gave me unpleasant stomach cramping for a few hours, but was worth it to me, because it got the job done so I was all cleared out by the time I left the hospital, which was important to me. Given all the warnings they give you about not straining on the toilet because it can increase CSF pressure in the head and potentially cause your dura patch to leak.
I showered for the first time the morning of my discharge (3 days post surgery). My surgeon said ok to shower, but don’t submerge — no pools, hot tubs, etc as that can increase risk of incision infection. No rubbing any lotions or oils back there, though bacitracin or neosporin to put on with sterile gloves/hands is ok if incision is itchy. They removed the bandage 2 days after my surgery and said everything looked beautiful. (I can PM you a picture of the shave line and incision if you what it looked like immediately after they removed the bandage. You can’t even notice the incision or that they shaved any of my hair when my hair is down. They tell me it is healing beautifully. My 5-year-old says it looks "soooo cool!" 😂)
Just a note, following surgery, that first day I found it more comfortable to rest on my side than my back because the neck incision pain hurt too much while on my back. But by 1-2 days after surgery, lying on my back with head elevated was fine. I second the recommendation for buying a wedge pillow in advance of your arrival home. (I didn’t know how helpful that elevating/reclining hospital bed pillow was until it was gone!) Right now I’m stacking pillows, but I think a wedge would have worked better.
They told me no bending, lifting, twisting - don’t carry anything bigger than a gallon of milk for 6 weeks. If you drop something and do need to pick it up, bend at the knees. No picking up kids (at least, not if the one who wants picking up is 5 years old and 40 lbs, like my youngest!). Avoid driving for 2-4 weeks if you can, both to avoid needless jostling of head from sudden stops , and strain from having to turn your head too much. Do P/T if recommended.
I did have one slightly scary experience during my very early recovery (harmless, apparently, but freaked me out since I had never experienced it before). I had an episode of “vasovagal syncope,” which involves an automatic bodily reaction where your blood pressure and heart rate suddenly drop precipitously. (It happens to some people when they see needles or blood or get stressed or scared — essentially “fainting.” But never happened to me before). Apparently, it is not uncommon to occur after anaesthesia, brain surgery, etc.
So this was on the very day of surgery. Remember my procedure only started at 7:30 AM on Wednesday. But after dinner the same day, around 6:30 pm, they were already encouraging me to try moving to a sit-up chair for a while — with the idea that if that went well, we’d go on to do a little assisted walking (I guess walking as soon as you can helps with recovery time, reduces risk of blood clots, etc). So I sat up in a chair for about 30 minutes, not even standing, just sitting in a chair. And was fine at first. But then my legs started shaking a lot and I started to feel very nauseated. I asked the nurse to get me something for the nausea, afraid I was going to actually throw up, and while she was gone, started feeling even weirder - like flushing hot and cold sensations, sudden sweating. More shaking. Just feeling weird and terrible. My husband said I turned white as a sheet and my lips as white as the rest of my face. My husband got the nurses who helped me lay flat, and neuro came in a minute later to see me and ask what happened. He said what I described was a classic vasovagal syncope reaction - just put some fluids in my IV and had the bed headrest inverted a little (so my head was slightly tipped back — I didn’t like it, because put a little more strain on my neck, but he said just for 5 minutes or so to get the blood back in my head.)
After 30 minutes lying down with my legs up and my head back, I was pretty much back to normal and feeling better. Just a little scary because I didn’t know what was happening and hadn’t experienced it before. And usually I guess people experience it when standing up and walking, not just sitting in chair, so probably took nurses and dr a little by surprise too. But neuro team said it’s not too uncommon after surgery.
I didn’t do any more sitting that night. But next day after lunch, neuro team told me to go ahead and try again — and I had no more problems. Did plenty of sitting, standing, and walking with my husband. They said, by the way, that during your 6 weeks initial recovery, do as much walking as you want — but nothing more vigorous than that.
I am so happy already about the improvement in my quality of life without those horrible headaches and neck aches and other bizarre symptoms. I wish my doctors and neurologists hadn’t been such dummies and had figured it all out 5 years ago… but better late than never! The 5-hour car ride back home from NYC yesterday was a little rough (Memorial Day weekend traffic didn’t help), but I am glad I went the route of seeking out an expert Brain & Spine Center that really knew what they were doing. 4 days after surgery I am sitting here in bed at home with my cat in my lap (and warning the kids not yo jump on the bed) and feeling so much more optimistic about the future.
Wishing you all the best with your own journeys and recoveries. The first 4 days post-surgery really hasn’t been at ALL as bad as I feared. I was scared because I’ve never had surgery other than C-Section before, but it has bern totally manageable with the pain meds they give you. And neck stiffness by day 3, already SO much better than day 1-2. Hang in there!!!

On my Xfinity DVR, the race today is listed as the "2023 Indianapolis 500", and does not obey my preexisting"IndyCar Racing" recording rule.
If you wish to watch the race later with the ability to fast forward through the ads, and/or you don't have Peacock, it's best to double-check.

I had planned the day before where me and by boyfriend where going to hangout and eat for lunch. I was getting ready because I told him the day before that I was going to dress up and get all nice. Today he showed up at my house, laughed at my outfit, and then changed plan’s completely. We were supposed to go south for the day but he decided to go north( he was driving).
When we got to the place a few minutes in he stained my shirt with sauce. I was annoyed at it but I got even more annoyed by his response. I know it was an accident, but instead of saying sorry he completely ignored me the whole time and refused to listen. We ended up just going home because the place I planned to go to was to far at this point and I was feeling tired.
He is texting me now yelling at me that I’m being a dick for what I did at lunch. But he even admitted he was purposely running me out at lunch. He said it’s my fault for wearing the outfit.
Whenever something like this happens he doesn’t ever say sorry or take accountability unless he does a bunch of stuff like this and I am telling him how unhappy he makes me and I don’t want to be with him anymore.