I mean I do think suicide should be legal but I also don't think we should let people just do it without making them stop for a second and be evaluated to see if maybe there's any better options for them that a mental illness might be preventing them from seeing.
oh yeah should have said it's a nom not a full, one nurse at our hospital won one for changing the side a patient's IV was on (in fairness that nurse is generally a sweetheart), but I've never seen a psych nurse actually win. Apparently at my last hospital the psych unit got the most actually but I think it was because people would hand them to the euphorically happy manics to keep them busy. I would usually hand them out to say a "special thank you" to their nurse because I figured on the off-chance they weren't trying to slip the nurse their number or draw her a picture of their penis it would be nice. In retrospect maybe that's why the committee ignored most of them though.
As a psych nurse who's worked a unit with door alarms, somebody is going to have an aneurysm if they have to reset that alarm one. more. GOTDAMN MOTHER-FUCKING TIME.
Ours were specifically between the top of the door and the frame to keep people from anchoring a noose there. But that also meant they went off any time somebody finished toweling off out of the shower and threw the towel over, every time somebody grabbed the top of the door frame to stretch, and every time somebody was just mad about something at 2am and wanted all the other patients to suffer too. And you had to walk down to the relevant room and use your key in the little panel next to the door. Every. Single. Time.
So fun fact, there's actually a academically researched phenomenon called "clinical alarm fatigue" where people get so used to turning alarms off that they stop checking before dismissing them. It's like when you play a heavily modded game (mine was morrowind) and keep skipping through bogus warnings about missing textures and whatever but while you're spamming the enter key a real one pops up and the whole thing crashes. It's part of how radonda vaught killed that lady. Many of the alarms she overrode that day were warnings the nurses routinely had to override to complete daily tasks.
Anyway that's the story of how the one time somebody did actually try to hang themselves the staff members turned off the alarm, assured the patient it was a false one, and walked away.
I was gonna say, women have been getting sick of men and turning into bog witches for centuries now, probably longer. The more socially acceptable version was nunneries for a while, since men need to feel like they're in control of that some way or another. I'm the city apartment version where I'm becoming a night shift vampire /other undead into tarot cards and Gnosticism.
When you elevate the head of your bed (In this case to help the fluid drain out of your head / sinuses), don't put the extra pillows under your head, put them under the mattress. you'll fall to the side as the pillow pile collapses too much to be useful while you're half awake, but if the whole head is up you just gotta wiggle your way back up if you wake up congested. You can also stuff extra blankets and stuffed animals or whatever else you have under there for extra lift (although at a certain point if you don't have a footboard the mattress will start sliding down. You could also try sleeping in a recliner chair if you have one.
All fluid used in a neti-pot MUST be sterile, or you'll get brain worms / amoebas. You can get sterile saline from the wound care / bandage aisle in the pharmacy, or you can make it at home but make sure you let the solution cool so that it is NOT boiling before putting it in the neti pot.
Traditional Medicinals Throat Coat with slippery elm is the GOAT for sore and scratchy throats, which can happen as the fluid drains.
Also did you take real sudafed or fake sudafed? Phenylephrine is literally a placebo. Pseudoephedrine is the stuff you want but you may need to show ID for it because it can be used to make meth.
(Can't watch right this second but assuming this is the same short story I read years ago) this is the only afterlife I'm willing to believe in. Either this or a combination of this and the gnostic afterlife where we're all splittable and recombinable parts of one larger soul.
I forget why, but I strongly associate this concept with the time I passed out from dehydration at work for like 30 seconds and I remember was walking on a pebbled beach and talking to someone. Don't remember who or what we talked about though.
"Naaah bro that's not that weird / dumb I do that too"
Are very close sentiments at face value and it can take a fair amount of finesse to get something to read as the second one.
Training to be a peer recovery mental health specialist helped a lot if any of you are interested in learning some better techniques. It's mostly timing and choosing the right parts of the story to tell.
Personally it's the silkiness after a fresh wash that gives good mouthfeel, among other ways a good wash contributes to a positive experience. It's also good to not have any cosmetic products on or directly around the penis or testicles, but the tiniest dab of scent up higher on the inguinal line, like up towards the hips, would be nice (and I do like me a nice inguinal line, unlike a lot of other traits it's usually still visible with a normal / healthy amount of chub; something about that narrower angle as a secondary sex characteristic is just 👌). Just not a lot of scent even though, you want to get any offensive smells off with washing then just add back a little pleasant smell since the face is gonna be right up in there.
I used to think that until I found drop crotch jogger jeans. Loose up top but skinny through the calves and cuffed to stay out of the mud. If I get extra longs I can wear them up over my bellybutton and the crotch is just normal. I looked for and found them when I found myself fantasizing about living life in my jogger scrub pants (where usually mud is the least worrisome thing that could wind up on my pants hems). Also they make my hips look huge in comparison to my tiny ankles and top so I get to look like a Pixar mom.
Stalin, iirc. But possibly.