u/bertrandpepper

finally tried it. did it once. fully sealed my tube up for 24 hours. magical to not even hear the slightest clicking when swallowing, but also a little disconcerting tbh! don't want an ear infection; better if the tube is working but not too open. anyway, since that one use due to things getting worse than usual, i've been able to manage with hypertonic saline again, but it's nice knowing i've got some serious firepower sitting in my fridge when i may need it. people are right that it stings, though. such an odd place to feel intense pain, too. but yeah, anyway, pretty effective for me i guess, at least for now.

i am fighting to find time to write so i am in need of some validation to keep me going. if it sucks, please be specific. if not, encouragement would be nice.

A civil war erupts in my chest as I turn away from you and take off against my will toward the low part of the horizon between the silver high rises, where the sun melts into the Ledge like gum on asphalt. I nearly vomit, maybe from the acceleration, maybe from the crackling in my skull, maybe from the anger gripping the back of my neck. I reject this. I want to go back, to stay with you, to wait for them, to kick and scream, but I cannot. My body refuses, plunging forward even faster, rebelling, driven on from within by a new feeling, a warmth, not of me but known to me, trusted, comforting, like if a fever were a hug, but also radiant with power and urgency and controlling my body, driving me away from where you are sitting in your own blood, waiting for them. 

As the warmth wins the war, my defenses ceding to its embrace, the lightning in my head dissolves. My stomach settles. At a sprint that flinches for no obstacle, my limbs find a rhythm and, impossibly, my pulse slows. As I fly across well-lit, tree-lined streets, my breathing eases, inhalations gathering with patience into exhalations that take a block to leave my lungs. We must have been a mile from the perimeter when we got jumped. I have closed half that distance in under two minutes, the average time it takes for a drop crew to arrive. I crane my neck backward, fighting the resistance in my own spine. The sky over the spot where I left you glows blue from scanlights. The whine of the drop crew copter needles the air, green lights streaking down toward you from far above.

My neck yanks itself forward again. The perimeter looms on the far side of one final, empty street. The inner walls are lower, but must still be 15 feet or higher, much too high to jump. But the warmth only rises, heating my throat, rushing down my spine, suspending all disbelief. Crouching low at full speed, I launch myself into the air and fly as if in slow motion, clean over the wall, crash landing into a makeshift garden on the other side. All at once, the warmth departs. In its place, an overwhelming soreness like I have never felt. I cough, burying my mouth in my elbow, eyes trained on the nearest windows, and scan the area for a place to hide, wincing from the pain of turning my neck, like twisting my vertebra in a vice. As I scramble toward the alley that runs behind the neatly apportioned row of Cat 3s to my left, the lights of the drop crew copter flit across my peripheral vision, red now, and heading into the sky, taking you with them.

is this condition tied to stress strongly enough that if my life were to become significantly less stressful in the future, a long term remission could occur with no treatment needed during that time? or am i just a pathetic and whiny person?