Swollen throat to menthol cigarettes

Hello! I’m currently 78 hours into quitting vaping once again, this time quitting 18mg freebase nicotine juice after I accidentally relapsed. Before the relapse, I had been going 6 months strong CT off of a 50mg salt nic daily vaping habit that I had clung to since 2018 after starting with Juuls, moving onto refillable pod devices, and eventually settling on shitty disposables. I should state that I’m currently 24 years old male with ADHD.
I had quit the 50mg Salt Nic back at the end of last March, and I had not been prescribed Wellbutrin for the entire time, I only got put onto Wellbutrin at the end of this January. Anyway, quitting the 50mg Salts was hellish, but I got through it and eventually the cravings mostly subsided. The first 2 weeks were the most difficult with the first week itself being the most challenging. However, Week 2 and 3 presented their own challenges as my brain kept convincing itself that something was wrong with me since I still had occasionally strong cravings and agitation and I was sure that I was supposed to be past that shit since I was at the 2 week mark. But EVERYONE is different, and instead of relapsing, I sought out a lot of products to assist in quitting vaping that were used by people close to me or online who had successfully quit themselves.
Here’s my shortish and sweet thoughts on each:
• Vicks Inhalers: A personal favorite. They’re non-medicated and contain NO ACTUAL VICKS, so there’s no chance of them making you sick even if you use them a fuckton. If you do use them a fuckton, the worst that might happen is that you’ll eventually have to sneeze really badly, but that’s the worst I’ve experienced from them. I know it sounds silly, but using the Vicks Inhalers actually almost tricked my brain into feeling like I was getting the satisfying hit of like a menthol vape. I was half expecting to exhale smoke the first few times I used them. They do ‘taste’ a lot worse when you first start using one, but after using it for a bit, the ‘hit’ it provides becomes a bit more subtle and a lot more palatable and satisfying. It sort of does give you something to fiddle with and can satisfy that oral fixation even if you’re inhaling it nasally. I guess you could inhale it through your mouth like a vape, I’ve definitely done it a few times (accidentally, like my hand is just trained to put stick-shaped things to my mouth like a cigarette lol), and I had no ill effects besides people looking at me weird and it tasting pretty bad when it’s fresh and super potent. Give it a try, but don’t buy the bulk ones on amazon.
• Nicor Inhaler: Similar to the Vicks, just not as strong and it lacks the strong menthol punch in favor of a more chill, subdued, relaxing scent. Full of essential oils and other stuff, I kind of like it. There’s tons of other essential oil inhalers that you can try if Vicks has too much of a punch, I’m just using this one because a friend bought it for me and I wanna show them my appreciation.
• Gum/Mints/Candy: Pretty self explanatory. I’ve fallen in love with the Trident Sour Patch Kids gum, and you can pick up a pack of 4 on Amazon for like $12-$15. I’ve also been munching on Jolly Ranchers, Sour Skittles, Hi-Chews, and Popsicles like crazy. Go for what you love and feel no shame about it. Give your inner kid a little hit of that old childhood sweets fix. You deserve it.
• Wellbutrin XL 300mg: It definitely helps to really take the edge off of the cravings and withdrawals. I definitely still feel a bit of agitation, but there’s been alot of points throughout the last few days where i’ve felt shockingly normal and almost forgot that I wasn’t using nicotine but I don’t know how much of this easiness is attributable to the Wellbutrin since I’m definitely comparing this experience to the more hellish experience I had quitting salt nic since obviously freebase nicotine is a lot easier to quit.
• Metal Breathing Tube Thing: Idk. It kind of relaxes me and helps to remind me to slow down and focus on my breathing sometimes. Guided breathing and medication exercises genuinely can make a huge difference for you and have helped me step down off the ledge of an oncoming panic attack or meltdown. The breathing tube just exists to make that process easier while giving you a fun little object to satisfy your oral fixation.
If you have any questions, need any advice, or just wanna talk about your experience - please feel free to PM me or comment!
I’m using Apollo and I can’t post images with body text, so here’s the imgur link:
https://i.imgur.com/3lc37xY.jpeg

44y/o white female. 5'6" and 288lbs. Only diagnosis is major depression. Was on Zoloft and Welbutrin for years until recently weaned off Zoloft onto Cymbalta. I try to exercise as much as I can, but it's hard with symptoms.
This has been going on for 12+years. Any time I have a busy day, get a lot of activity, spend time outside, etc. The next day I can barely get out of bed. I have body aches, swollen glands, sore throat, horrible fatigue, and just general overall malaise. The muscle aches are all over and aren't the good kind of ache after exercise. I basically feel like I have the flu. The only thing that helps is sleeping all day. It's almost like I have a latent infection or illness that fares up the next day with any kind of physical activity.
For example, yesterday I helped with some yard work outside, worked on my boat, went and saw friends, and did some housework. Today I could barely walk. My throat hurts, my glands are swollen, I feel inflammation everywhere, body aches, and I slept most of the day.
Even if it's not one of these "bad days" where I feel sick, I'm incredibly tired almost every day and could sleep all day if I allowed myself to.
Multiple blood tests over the past 12 years show consistently elevated platelets, white blood cells count, c reactive protein, and sometimes EFR. Everything else is normal. Normal glucose, hemoglobin, a1c, etc.
Ruled out: sleep apnea, RA, MS, lymes (I live in Wisconsin), ruled out all food intolerances, celiacs, allergies...
No medical provider has been able to give me a diagnosis or any idea what's going on. If anyone has any thoughts that might help, I would very much appreciate it.
Thank you so much.

There is someone out there reading this waiting for a message from someone that may be drawing my attention towards because of my topics I write about.
I am a former and currently struggling addict. I'm not perfect, I don't try to be someone I am not. I am blunt, honest, alone.... Mostly alone.... A lot!
I am a human being that has stumbled many upon many times..... I'm doing it again not all or all at once, but I did all in my past.
Let me break the ice and list some of my sins and addictions.
watching inappropriate films of all topics.
Fornication
Smoking
Drinking
Gossip
Gluttony
In a nice way to list it without the drama story attached to it. I'm guilty of it all.
Don't give in, even though you messed up today. I did too....
Just socializing, I take a drag of a cigarette and then another and then another....
Well, I just smoked and broke my promise again for the millionthteenth time.... So, I'll just smoke for tonight only......
It's 1am now, but I didn't fall asleep yet, so I can smoke until my day actually ends.
F* it, I'll just buy a pack because I'm already smoked yesterday and broke my promise.
You see my demons there!
Yeah, this is current and I'm ashamed and holding myself accountable. I told my person my struggles and allowed them to share their anger towards me for falling back into my old patterns. I still told them and I am working on myself. I am reminding myself where I was and how long I stopped and how far I've come and to not fall back into hurting my body anymore. To love myself more and not harm it because I am not afraid of dying. I need to stop wanting it to happen to me. I need to accept that my life has a purpose and masking my pain won't stop when I am hiding my emotions for a nicotine buzz when I take a break at work.
That is no excuse to pick up the habit. Let your coworkers do it without you. Don't go back to your old habits. Stop it!
That's my Dad yelling at me. I get him interrupting when I free write.
I want you to see that I struggle everyday. I miss smoking every day. I chose the other options to seek a substance over another. I am just like my father. I have an addictive personality and behavior pattern.
I also see where I need to work on myself and I get back in the game. I don't keep with the habit because I fell out of it for a weekend. My Dad won't shut up.
My father died of lung cancer and he never smoked and he is very upset at me for smoking so I could be with him in heaven. He cried next to me as I cried and I gave up singing. I left choir and I had throat problems when I was a senior in college. I didn't get to sing my recital to my father, he passed away before he saw me graduate.
He doesn't want anyone to give in to their addictions. He wishes he followed his dreams of being a service with God by his side. He gave into alcohol and pills. He sees me talking about him on here. I'm letting you see me for who I am and I am not afraid of how you read my story. This is real. This is me. Deal with it or move on.
Sorry about that side tangent. Suz showed up.
She helps me get my throat chakra open so I can share my feelings and stick up for myself. She is well aware of my past and been warning me ever since.
This is about addiction. This is about letting go.
They show up at the worst times, sorry you guys....
I am here to receive and share my story and I fall apart. I am being tested by my enemy and I am sharing my struggles to show my gratitude for awareness. I am more aware to see where I am falling short and work on nurturing those wounds to avoid the old habits of treating it. My inner child, my 20 year old self showed up and what I did back then was miss my Dad and smoke.
I can never fall too far, my Dad shows up and reminds me to write and he helps me get back on track with the topics I write about. It's him taking over my hands and I just start writing.
It's really cool. I miss him and it's weird how he does this, it took me a few tries after becoming very intoxicated with a substance I don't want to trigger you anymore..... Sorry....
I'm not the only one that has this problem. When some of us become intoxicated, we are more intune with spirits. It's not a psychotic break down. It took me a long time to see why my father kept escaping when he had no reason.
He had good reasons, but I wasn't old enough to understand. Until he passed, we are very close, he shares with me many memories and stories of my family I never knew. He taught me how to talk to my Grandmother through music. He lets me know how to handle my mom. He calms me down when I am having a breakdown and my arms hold my body in a hug. I don't move my body, I let my body move on its own. When I allow this to happen, especially when I drank, I saw my father in my memory hugging me tightly. That was when he taught me how to see and communicate with him.
I got used to wanting to be around him more, I kept trying to find how to bring him back, it only happens on special occasions. I don't get to decide how he wants to show up. He just does and I have to be ready to see his signs and feel every moment to enjoy the experience.
He told me today.
"Knock it off! Go write!"
So, here I am. I was wrong. This journey doesn't let me get away with much anymore. I have a purpose why I chose to stray away from God after I went to college and do this stuff.... My adult self is really mad for smoking and drinking so heavily.....
If you are still young, but feel like you did yourself enough damage you don't see the point in stopping......
Just stop.
There's no plan to it, you just do it. It's gonna suck. That part you got to fix is how you think about it once you stop.
This isn't me talking, this is still my Dad teaching me a lesson to not smoke. Because he died a terrible death and he doesn't want me to go the same way. We are working on forgiving each other in giving into our patterns we learned from our family patterns of raising kids. We all have a story. We all came from some form of trauma.
They want to show me how to stop repeating it. I failed this week. It's been a week, not gonna lie and I enjoyed it, but now, I feel regret. Because I do know better.
I know someone out there wants to be serious and stop, but feel alone without someone to show active encouragement.....
Be my cheerleader too!
I need one so I can stop messing up my clean lungs. I worked hard to get them there. I'm gonna get back on track and stop. I hope you are able to get a hold of your addictions too, Whatever it may be.
I feel a little weird about posting this, but they are double dog daring me to do it.
SO, don't judge, but yeah..... Here it is.... Unedited. All me.... Being weird.
Peace,
Tina

I was hoping to talk to people who have had thyroiditis to see if my symptoms match. I do have an appointment to see my nurse practitioner but that’s not for a couple of weeks and I want to ensure i ask the right questions and ask for the right tests.
I have been dealing with symptoms for over a month and I am driving myself mad not knowing what’s going on.
Background: Feb/March 2024: dealt with two stints of severe throat infections, one of which was treated with antibiotics and steroids (due to swelling in the neck)
Since March/ April 2024: developed symptoms: -feeling of fullness in neck, especially sides and front -constant swollen sublingual and cervical lymph nodes -front of neck (thyroid) feels swollen -fatigue -neck feels swollen after long period of speaking -neck and lymph nodes feel very swollen after exercising
Has anyone else experienced something similar? What has helped ease symptoms? How were you diagnosed? What tests should i request?
Many thanks!

You messaged me asking what it would take to be in my next story. I let you know I would need to see a face and dick pic to decide. You were hesitant to send a face pic but did not waste time sending a dick pic.
My mouth watered instantly. You must have the prettiest dick I had ever seen. It was long and veiny. Your pink head was perfectly curved, and your slit glistened with precum. I couldn't tell but it must have been at least 8 inches or more and I wanted to find out. I couldn’t stop looking at it. It stood at attention, swollen and full, firm with excitement and calling my lips.
I don’t usually meet someone without seeing them first and I couldn’t convince you to send me a face pic. Would I break my own rules for your girthy cock?
You convince me to meet you at a bar. You let me know If you weren’t what I expected, I could leave. If anything I would get a free drink. I hated myself for caving in but I want your dick!
On a cloudy evening I followed your instructions. You wanted me to wear black, with my hair slicked back, ready for fun. I was to meet you at 8. Once I arrived at the destination, I would travel up to the 5th floor. I was to sit at the bar opposite of the pool side and look out for you. I would know it’s you because you would wear brown shoes, navy blue slacks, a light blue button down, with no tie. You told me to make sure I looked for your rolled up sleeves and tattoos on your left arm.
I followed your instructions. Once I found my spot I ordered a drink. From where I was sitting I had a clear shot to the entrance. The bartender hands me my vodka water and I take my first sip.
It wasn’t long after I took my first sip when I saw you walk in. You walked in with a smile which was incredible. A contrast from the gloomy evening. You were taller than I expected. You had perfectly combed dirty blonde hair. Your eyes were piercing blue. Tattoos traveled down your left arm. I knew it was you.
My glare must have caught your attention. You looked over where I was sitting when our eyes locked. I politely smile and continue enjoying my drink. I did not know what you had planned.
You come over to introduce yourself. “Am I what you expected?” You ask. Confidence in a man is sexy, and you were definitely confident. “Maybe.” I responded. I was in a trance. Not only did you look great but you smelled incredible.
You order a drink and sit next to me. There was no small talk. You were easy to talk to. I laughed at your jokes and I flirtatiously rubbed your leg. I notice there was a crease in your pants and realize it’s your hard on. Although we were outside I felt warm. I became flustered looking at your cocks outline. I wanted to find out what it tastes like. I want to unzip your pants, unwrap your cock, and indulge in every inch. I wanted to suck up every last drop like I was dying of thirst.
You must have seen my want for your dick. You asked to pay our tab. Then you whispered in my ear “do you trust me?” This turns me on. I bit my bottom lip and signal yes with my head. “Then follow me.”
We get on the elevator and quietly go down. Dirty thoughts raced in my head. I want to work on your dick hard, taking it deeper and deeper while gently rubbing your balls. The doors to the elevator open. I froze for a moment when you turned and told me, “come on.” I followed you.
We walked out of the building into a fresh summer night. You take a right and walk towards a dark and less busy side of downtown. Not much was being said. It seems like you know where you’re going. I started wondering why you’d ask if I trusted you when you took a sharp turn into a dark alley. I stopped. I didn’t know you and you wouldn’t send a pic, what if this was a set up. That’s when I hear you shout out “are you coming?”
I turned the corner and not far from the street you had your slacks pulled down and your cock in your hand. I could not believe how comfortable you were to be naked so close to the public. My worry had quickly diminished when I saw how big your cock was. I looked back to see if anyone was coming, and it was clear. I slowly positioned myself to drain your balls.
I placed my right hand under your impressive dick. It was a monster cock!!! I thought 9 inches for sure. I licked my lips admiring it. It was no longer a picture but now in my face. Then with no warning, my mouth descends down your shaft. You lean back towards the wall and gasp.
I pull your drenched dick out. I began to circulate my tongue around the rim of your head. I want to deep throat you. I prepare by relaxing my throat muscles before sliding your dick down. I drag your cock along the roof of my mouth on its way to my throat. Your head stops, it is pressed against my tonsils. Your cock is so massive I need a little help to get it down my throat. You push forward, and it pops past my gag reflex. “Mmm…” I hear you moan. While my eyes release some tears.
You slowly thrust into me. Every time your head pops past my tonsils. You can’t believe I can take all your cock. No one has ever been able to do so.
There is saliva everywhere. My mouth is producing so much saliva from wanting your cock so bad. It’s all over your cock, balls and my face. It’s so slippery your cock goes in and out easily. My lips make slurping sounds from pressing up against your veiny member. You love this and let me know.
While my mouth works on your cock, my right hand rubs under your balls. You must have liked the pressure, because you spread your legs open and squat down a bit, holding yourself against the wall to make room. My fingers are now traveling down and pressing up against your hole. Your cock gets harder. You don’t stop me.
Unexpectedly, I moved my face down and went under your balls and between your legs. My tongue is in search of your hole. At first it encounters your hairy ass but eventually it meets your hole. “Oh fuck you” you exclaimed and squad even further down. I can’t believe you're holding this squad this long but it makes sense because you’re fit. In this position I take the opportunity and go in deep with my tongue. That’s when I feel your right hand push my head closer to your ass.
I can hear my saliva clashing with your hand while you stroke your cock. Your right hand never loosens the grip of my head. That’s when I hear you warn me “oh fuck! Oh fuck!!!” You began to unleash string on string of hot cum. You get it everywhere. I quickly moved my head towards your dick and tried to suck up the remaining of your cum but it’s too late. You have completely emptied your balls.
You pick up your underwear before collapsing on the floor. “I’ve never felt that before” panting and reaching for air. “How do you do that?” You ask. I smile and offer you a hand to help you up. “So I take it, you liked it?”

For about 3 weeks I've had a sore /swollen lymph node on one side of my neck and throat. About a week ago I started getting ear pain / pressure on that same side and it's gotten worse since. Went to see my primary and he had no idea, offered a bunch of guesses and script for azithromicin just in case and sent me on my way. Did say lymph node was definitely swollen but was in normal reactive range. Looked at my ears quickly and nothing jumped out.
Curious what this could be, and what my next step is.
Should I follow back up with same GP, try to see an ENT doctor?

I usually get canker sores but this is the worst, noticed my left side of my throat was sore and checked and my left tonsil was swollen. After two days it went down and my right side of my throat started hurting. I checked and all the way towards the back of my throat was a CANKER. I can’t even see it without forcing my tongue down for it to appear. Every swallow feels like glass going down. I haven’t really been able to eat anything for a little. I tried numbing spray and I can’t get it back far enough without gagging, and I have cankeraid but again can’t reach the canker without gagging. Any tips? First pic is day 1, 2nd picture is day 2, and the last picture is from today.

This sub was instrumental for me in the early days of quitting. Use it as a support!

I had a 5.5 year old white German Shepherd. One night I came home from work and he was not eating, the next day he still hadn’t eaten anything. Later that night his neck and face were incredibly swollen so I rushed him to the emergency vet. The vet sedated him and examined his throat and showed me that his tonsils were the size of golf balls. They also ultrasound and aspirated his swollen neck but nothing was shown. They sent me home with antibiotics and anti inflammatory saying that if it does not get better that it could be an abscess due to a foreign body such as a fox tail weed which we do have in our yard or an allergic reaction and we should plan CT/Exploratory surgery and told me it could be around 3k for those before treatment and stay. The diagnosis at the time was majority cellulitis.
During the course of his medicine he improved greatly. His facial swelling went down, he started acting normal, eating as usual, but his throat swelling was still present.
After the medicine was finished he was still good until 2 days later his eyes looked a little red. I planned on going to a standard vet that was 2 days out because he was still playing, eating, etc. The next day I came home and his eyes were half red and looked to be filled with blood. I was freaking out and noticed he was, what I thought at the time lethargic and also not eating again.
I brought him back to the emergency vet (about a week after initial visit) and as soon as I walked in they told me he was blind (bilateral hyphema) and my heart sank, I could only think if I brought him in the previous day then maybe his vision could’ve been saved as he could see 24 hours prior. Shortly after telling me that, the vet immediately told me it doesn’t look good. He had a fever of 105.9 and the swelling in his neck was firm as a rock. She first said it could very well be cancer. The inflammation was so bad it caused the bleeding in his eyes. She then told me they couldn’t do anything because they didn’t have a CT machine there but decided to x ray him anyway. Nothing showed up.
After the x ray the vet just looked at me. She told me that she read in my report that I couldn’t really afford a CT scan and the future surgery and that she could prescribe me another round of medicine to give it one last shot and to think about “quality of life” during that week. I immediately knew what that meant and I lost it. Man in his 30s crying for the first time in a while in front of all these people. She then proceeded to tell me that “It would be an alright choice to put him to sleep now.”
It was a blur, she kind of just guided me in there and it started happening, placing IV etc... Honestly I can’t even remember if I said anything or shook my head a certain way to result in this but I went along anyway thinking is was the right thing. Anyway, 30 minutes later he was peacefully, permanently, asleep in my arm. Then I just walked out with his collar that I came in with and left him. My shirt covered in his hair and slobber…
I feel an incredible amount of guilt. He was purely innocent and so happy. Playing ball with me not even 24 hours prior. It was true I didn’t have money to pays for the thousands in vet bills. I have a stay at home wife and a 1 year old and 3 year old boy and didn’t have the type of money I had prior to all of that… but the thing is I had him first and he didn’t ask for any of this. Looking back I should have sold my car and took a bus to work or something to just try the CT. I cannot believe I let him go so easily.
I don’t know why I’m posting this. I guess I think that someone should know what I’ve done.
Sorry.

I believed in fairies as a kid. More than believed in them. I think something terrible happened to me, and I've just buried it until now.
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?

So I had a tonsillectomy on Thursday (just finished day 3 post op). It’s been horrid. The pain has been so draining, the breathe and taste of cauterized flesh making me so nauseous.
I was told to try eat as normal as possible to aid recovery / prevent infection. I’ve managed some small meals of mac and cheese, lasagne, mashed potato and gravy. I’ve had broth and managed 2 cookies today (tiny bites, and a swig of water to turn them into mush). I’ve been sleeping upright on a big beanbag chair as my uvula is very swollen.
Each night I wake up at 2.15 and I need to clear my throat, the taste is overpowering and I end up spitting out fleshy white bits I assume are scabs melting off. No blood though.
Now I’m just really scared about bleeding. In hospital after my surgery, my right tonsil had a bloody looking spot on it while the left looked fully cauterized. I worried that the surgeons hadn’t cauterized it as well as the left but The doctors weren’t worried and sent me home.
On days 1/2 it seemed to get a white film over it so I thought ‘ok it’s sealed off’. Now day 3 morning, I have a lot of fleshy scab remnants in my throat I have to clear out. Firstly I’m thinking isn’t it a bit soon for that? Or is this normal on day 3? I didn’t have any blood in any of my spit all day but went to check my throat before bed and my right tonsil area has a red splodge on it. I don’t know if it’s a clot or what, but I’m really scared it’s a weak spot that’s going to rupture. As I said, it didn’t bleed today, but I wasn’t expecting to see any red.
Is this normal? Every photo I see of people recovering normal, there’s no red spots or splodges it’s all white. So I’m worried mine isn’t normal

Hi all. I had my tonsillectomy on the morning of May 16th and I thought I’d share my recovery so far!
Background: I (24F) have always had very large tonsils since I was young. As a kid, I would constantly get strep throat but that died down as I got older. Honestly, I thought my abnormally large tonsils were just my normal. Well November 2023 I got very sick with the flu. I had body chills, muscle aches, and a horrible sore throat with extremely swollen tonsils (somehow even bigger than they have been my whole life)! Given my tonsils history, I was not that concerned and figured they would go back to normal. After a few weeks the tonsils still had not returned back to normal and my voice was affected, I was snoring and having to breathe through my mouth, and in the following months I would get sick constantly. Also, my cardiovascular health just plummeted which was shocking because I was in the best shape of my life having ran a marathon the month prior. Anyways, I went to a very well respected ENT in my city and when I opened my mouth he said “Holy shit, those are the biggest tonsils I have ever seen. How do you breathe? How do you sleep?” And he proceeded to pull every nurse and doctor in the room to look at them! He even took a photo to use as a case study as he teaches at a university haha. Anyways, months later on May 16 I finally had my tonsillectomy!
Day 1/2: I woke up from my tonsillectomy at around 9:30 AM with no issues. I had never been put under before and was surprised at how well I felt! My doctor uses local anesthesia as well as general so I had a hard time swallowing water when the nurse offered me some. I took a percocet that they offered me, got dressed and was on my way home by 10:15. About halfway through my 30 minute drive I thought I was going to throw up because I was very overheated but as soon as I blasted the ac I was fine. Immediately after getting in the car I started chugging ice water that had re-lyte electrolyte powder in it. When I got home I ate eggs scrambled with cottage cheese which was very easy to eat and swallow. My pain stayed low throughout the day, and at this time I was just taking Tylenol every 4-6 hours. I ate more eggs that night, Costco Mac and cheese, and had a lot of popsicles as well. I woke up on day 2 (I’m counting surgery day as day 1) with still very little pain. My surgeon at this point had OKed me to take ibuprofen so I started that at 10 AM. Since then I’ve been taking 400 mg of ibuprofen and 500 mg of Tylenol rotating every 4 hours. So I take each 3 times a day. I had very little pain on day 2. I ate eggs, popsicles, a peanut butter sandwich, Mac and cheese, and a California roll and miso soup. My only regret was putting wasabi on the California roll! Haha. At this point I know the worst is ahead of me
Day 3/4: the mornings on these two days have been rough compared to the last two days, but never not manageable! My uvula is huge and so is my tongue. Day 3 I didn’t want to eat, and today, day 4, I have been a bit better. As the day progresses my pain gets much better! On day 3, I made Pastina and that was so easy to eat and felt amazing on my throat! I also had two poached eggs and shredded hashbrowns which I didn’t brown very much so they were still soft. Day 4 I’ve ate watermelon, avocado, and more Pastina. I just now ate a whole cup of ice in an attempt to make the swelling in my tongue go down. I have been drinking at least 3 32oz hydroflask worth of water a day. And I put 1 scoop of re-lyte electrolyte powder and 1 scoop of Laird dehydrated coconut water in each bottle which I truly think has helped me stay so hydrated. Once again, I know the worst of the pain is ahead of me but so far it has not been unmanageable at all. I will update as the days go by!

So lost a part of a tooth Friday 10th of May (probably swallowed it), temp filling dentist said theyd see me on Tuesday.
Woke up Monday night with swollen lymphs in throat, ate honey on toast took an ibuprofen and went back to sleep. Tuesday morning fine, at 11.30am Dentist after 5mins says can't treat, signs of infection in throat but around tooth looks fine, in there opinion its a viral infection due to the pattern, said they've seen measles presenting in adults this way recently even if they were vaccinated (I am). Said options were to go to the Debtal Hospital about 1h away where they may treat it immediately or go to GP get diagnosed, get better and come back.
GP is not my normal one (my normal one retired) I say normal but I've only been to the GP 3 times in the last 20 years, last time was 2020 before that 2016, before that 2006. GP looks and also notices now damage presenting on roof of mouth, says mouth and throat are infected gives me a prescription for 3 things, I ask what infection... GP says infections but doesn't say what.
Prescription was : 500mg Profloxin twice daily. 400mg Flagyl 3 times daily. 6ml mycostatin 4 times daily, rinse but don't swallow.
Peak Symptoms: From Tuesday night till Thursday night multiple small ulcers on my throat, side of tongue, lower front lip inside and tonsil. Anything other than cool water felt like hot burning on roof of mouth. Roof of mouth was yellow with black veins briefly. Tongue ulcers were no longer painful Thursday, ulcers in throat started healing Friday but some combined into bigger ones that are now healing (tonsil and left side of throat). I tried carrot soup and tomato soup initially but were painful to swallow and cols tomato soup burned like no ones business, tried a chicken soup also hurt... settled on water rice porridge cooked with fresh ginger and stirring in honey to cool it, this was easy to swallow and seemed to even reduce irritation slightly. Solid food again sat night. Drank about 8l of water a day, still because sparkling burned.
I'm 40 male otherwise healthy, no known allergies, no serious medical illnesses except I did get Covid but I was vaccinated so it was just like a particularly bad cold.
Would really like to know what I have, googling prescriptions didn't help as one is anti-fungal, one is a broadspectrum antibiotic and thr third appears to be for genital infections but downstairs had no symptoms and was all clear.

My dog is an 8 year old, male, neutered Pomeranian. Ever since we got out second dog (don't know if it has anything to do with it, but just in case I'm mentioning it) my dog kept getting sick. He started coughing - dry and loud - and one day we got up and his eyes were horribly infected. We instantly went to the vet and his lymph nodes were swollen and his eyes infected. He got cortisol drops for the eyes (3x daily for a week) and some liquid we put in his food (wetened with water) to help with the throat pain, as well as 3 shots to help with immunity.
Within a week his eyes were better again, his lymph nodes weren't swollen anymore and he seemed perfectly fine. But about a week or so later, the coughing was still happening and when we went to the vet his eyes were a little infected again. We did the eye-drops again and a few days later they were fine again. The vet suggested an allergy could be causing this. As a test she put the pup on cortisol pills, and said that if the symptoms went away, it was (probably) allergies.
She suggested it might take a week for the cortisol to take effect, but within 2 days the couching was down to once or twice a day and by days 3 and 4 he was completely cured. I let her know and she told me to get off cortisol and give him antihistemines instead (betadorm), and also to watch out, as it could make him sleepy. He's been getting the pills for about 4 days and not only did it not help with his allergy symptoms, I feel like the coughing is even worse than before and his eyes are slightly infected AGAIN.
I just don't understand what could be going on. He's also getting Trazodone, but he took that before the allergy symptoms and also during the cortisol episode without any symptoms, so I don't believe it's that, but I figured I'd mention it regardless. I'd go to the vet, but due to holidays they are all closer and the couching sounds horrible. How can I help my dog?

I just found out my boyfriend of 10 years cheated on me for the last 5 years with sex workers (up until last week), he has gonorrhea and I have gotten tested and waiting for results. I’m scared I have HIV, I don’t believe he used protection every time. He had sex 2-3 weeks ago and I now am having a sore throat, loss of appetite, swollen tonsils and a cough. I’m scared. I can’t handle waiting 3 months to test again, any advice ?

Hello,
Please delete my post if this breaks any rules - I need some ways of coping with the stress of not knowing my status as of now. Here’s some background for everyone, I’ll do it from the beginning as I don’t know how else to do it:
I’m 26, male, gay. On 14th of April I’ve met a guy and had unprotected sex with him. I was passive. I know he was HIV+ve but he told me he was undetectable. Prior to this for about 3 weeks I was taking PreP daily which I only stopped 3 days prior to meeting him (I had some stuff happening) and restarted it an hour and a half before meeting him.
Fast forward two weeks, I get a high fever, vomiting, aches all over and a massive headache as well as a sore throat and swollen lymph nodes. I didn’t immediately connect it back to him but I started finding out that unfortunately he’s a drug addict a stoner and frequently misses his meds - I am not judging at all so please don’t take it as such but that planted a seed in my head.
When my main symptoms went away (roughly day 15/16) I was left with aching everywhere and a sore throat that had continued on and off since then. It’s almost like the more I think about it the more it happens.
I am now in this IMMENSE black hole of constantly googling stuff related to HIV. I have done a test on day 32 which was a 4th generation test from my finger. This came back negative.
Yesterday, day 36 I’ve noticed white spots at the back of my throat.
I can’t stop googling, researching and finding more reasons as to why I am positive. I keep reading about how prep delays the detection window which is why I don’t trust my negative result.
I am just looking for people to give me some ways of coping with anxiety as it’s taken over my life. I am at work and I can’t stop thinking about it no matter what I’m doing. I keep randomly breaking down into tears. I wake up in the middle of the night and think about having it.
I understand having HIV is not a death sentence - I think it’s the anxiety of not knowing. If I knew I could then start moving on, but for now my life has been put on hold and I’m just paralysed.
I have another test at week 6 (+5days) and I’m already finding reasons as to why it won’t be definitive.
For me, it’s just way too many coincidences for me to not be positive and I just wanted people to essentially tell me what to do, please.

Hello,
Please delete my post if this breaks any rules - I need some ways of coping with the stress of not knowing my status as of now. Here’s some background for everyone, I’ll do it from the beginning as I don’t know how else to do it:
I’m 26, male, gay. On 14th of April I’ve met a guy and had unprotected sex with him. I was passive. I know he was HIV+ve but he told me he was undetectable. Prior to this for about 3 weeks I was taking PreP daily which I only stopped 3 days prior to meeting him (I had some stuff happening) and restarted it an hour and a half before meeting him.
Fast forward two weeks, I get a high fever, vomiting, aches all over and a massive headache as well as a sore throat and swollen lymph nodes. I didn’t immediately connect it back to him but I started finding out that unfortunately he’s a drug addict a stoner and frequently misses his meds - I am not judging at all so please don’t take it as such but that planted a seed in my head.
When my main symptoms went away (roughly day 15/16) I was left with aching everywhere and a sore throat that had continued on and off since then. It’s almost like the more I think about it the more it happens.
I am now in this IMMENSE black hole of constantly googling stuff related to HIV. I have done a test on day 32 which was a 4th generation test from my finger. This came back negative.
Yesterday, day 36 I’ve noticed white spots at the back of my throat.
I can’t stop googling, researching and finding more reasons as to why I am positive. I keep reading about how prep delays the detection window which is why I don’t trust my negative result.
I am just looking for people to give me some ways of coping with anxiety as it’s taken over my life. I am at work and I can’t stop thinking about it no matter what I’m doing. I keep randomly breaking down into tears. I wake up in the middle of the night and think about having it.
I understand having HIV is not a death sentence - I think it’s the anxiety of not knowing. If I knew I could then start moving on, but for now my life has been put on hold and I’m just paralysed.
I have another test at week 6 (+5days) and I’m already finding reasons as to why it won’t be definitive.
For me, it’s just way too many coincidences for me to not be positive and I just wanted people to essentially tell me what to do, please.

My wife and I went to Popeye in Houston North at 1960 location and ordered the Garlic Parmesan wings with french fries and a strawberry tea. We also added a side of mash potatoes. Well I could tell there were some language barriers between me and the guy in the drive through because he left our mash potatoes out causing me to drive around again and ask for them in the drive through and I couldn’t go in because the door was locked for late night security. She got home after eating 4 wings and woke up with swollen face, mouth, and the throat. She said the wings were hot so checked them and it turned out they were ghost pepper covered with garlic and Parmesan. . She has never eaten ghost peppers. Now I have a $2500 emergency room bill to pay all due to the workers experimenting with the food. I still have product left over.
Troy T https://maps.app.goo.gl/?link=https://www.google.com/maps/contrib//reviews/&apn=com.google.android.apps.maps&amv=703000000&ibi=com.google.Maps&ius=comgooglemapsurl&ifl=https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/google-maps-real-time-navigation/id585027354?ct%253Dlocal_guides&utm_campaign=local_guides&utm_source=thank_you_review_widget&cid=2400511974372300150&_icp=1

hello! looking for some answers or perhaps comfort from other ppl who have gone through the same thing. . i have never in my life had an allergic reaction to ANYTHING until around 3 am on Wednesday morning (3 days ago). i immediately went to the ER as i couldn’t breathe right, chest hurt, broke out in hives, etc. i stayed there the whole morning and essentially felt a lot better after they took care of me + monitored me. they gave me steriods and other meds to take for 5 days and said i should be on the road to feeling better fast! i’m currently on day 3 of recovery and i’m still feeling a little tightness in my throat and my voice is hoarse but i can breathe. . is this normal? my anxiety is at an all time high over this bc i hate hospitals and don’t wanna have to go again unless i absolutely need to. i’m just looking to see if experiencing a sore throat/a little swollenness in it is normal after going into anaphylaxis.

Hello, I had an MA on Wednesday when I took the misoprostol pills. On that day, I was bleeding a lot and cramping and passed some clots. Fast forward, I still have some light bleeding and light cramping. On Friday, I started feeling sick like I would get a fever but my temp never actually went up to 100. Last night, I had really bad congestion, runny nose, muscle ache, swollen lymph nodes, and it was hurting to swallow, and yellow nasal discharge/phlegm. I went to the urgent care this morning to get checked and tested negative for strep throat and doctor said it could be a viral infection. I was not prescribed any antibiotics and was told to take over the counter medication to manage the symptoms. I am just wondering if what I’m feeling could be any way related to my medical abortion. I am worried that I could have an infection or an incomplete abortion and this is how my body is reacting to it. Any thoughts would be appreciated. Has anyone ever experienced something like this.