Publix pharmacy appointment flu shot

If you decide to read this long post, please note that this is a very sensitive subject and that I am heart-broken, ashamed, and lost. I have been considering behavioral euthanasia for my 3-year-old Malinois for the past 6 months. I took in a puppy for foster back in March 2020 because shelter space was at capacity, and I had free time since I was remote. After a few weeks I decided to keep the puppy, whose name is now Tito. I had no idea what a Belgian Malinois was, but I quickly realized that he wasn't an ordinary pup. I sought out a working dog trainer local to me and we started doing daily boarding and 1-1 training sessions. My trainer has five Malinois (all in various sports such as Schutzhund/IPO and PSA) and she quickly noted that he was VERY nervy and was showing signs of fear-based aggression. Granted, he was a puppy, so I didn't think much of it at the time. I began learning about obedience, and the world of dog sport via LEERBURG, and took several classes on their website for conditioning, reactivity, and competitive heeling. I went headfirst into the world of dog training and sport, and quite honestly fell in love with it. My trainer said that although Tito was a nervous wreck, he didn't have enough drive for sport, but he had too much drive for a pet home. Nonetheless, I stayed consistent with training each day. I noticed a drastic change in behavior at around the 14 month mark. When I would get together with friends, Tito was OK (for the most part) when around their dogs. He would be slightly nippy, trying to herd them but no aggression or fear present. He became explosively reactive when around the same dogs so I took him to the Vet to get checked and rule out any health/medical issues. NO medical issues - so what's next? I told my trainer and she recommended that although it MAY not make a difference, we could try neutering. All of her dogs are intact and she usually advises against it but it was worth a shot. I was back and forth on the idea, until one day he got hold of one of our two cats and drew a little bit of blood (failed to mention that we have two cats in the home that he would chase). I have to manage him both outside of the home, and inside the home at all times. If he isn't in a place command, on the dogpacer treadmill getting his physical needs met, or eating, he is crated. After he attacked one of our cats, I decided to move forward with the neuter. No change. We began a behavior modification program with trazadone and Clomipramine. The trazadone was sedating but it didn't really help much else, while after about 6 months we did see a slight change with the Clomipramine ($250/month I might add). Tito's reactivity got so bad at one point, that he redirected on both my leg, and my fiancé's several times to where he punctured, drew blood, and eventually scarred our legs. Shame on us for not muzzling him from the get-go but you live, and you learn... Aside from being dog reactive, and redirecting on us during walks, he never showed aggression towards people UNTIL the 2-year mark.
INCIDENT #1: My fiancé and I were walking the dogs and had one of our friends who we were expecting waiting outside of our house. We greeted her, the dogs were neutral, and we all walked into the home together. I started prepping the dog's dinner while our friend was taking her shoes off at the entry way. Tito darted from the kitchen, straight to the entryway, and bit our friend's wrist. Thankfully he bit her watch, but it still punctured her wrist and scarred.
INCIDENT #2: A few months went by, and we had my fiancé's cousin and her friend staying with us for the weekend. We made it a point to keep Tito on our second floor, crated if they were around to avoid any potential events. I had him on a leash, muzzled, ready to take him outside for a walk when I said hi to the two girls staying with us. Tito didn't flinch and was neutral which was an unexpected surprise. While muzzled, we walked through the kitchen, and I decided to reward his neutrality with some treats. I then gave my fiancé's cousin and friend some freeze dried, and they fed him through the muzzle. At this point, I felt comfortable (shame on me) and I sat down on the couch and removed Tito's muzzle. The friend still had some treats and fed him - no issue. All was fine up until she stood up, to which he bit her wrist, drawing blood. Not severe by any means, but yet again I put another person in danger because of my naivety.
INCIDENT #3: This next attack was our tipping point as his bites have progressively gotten worse with each event. I was working in my office and had my golden doodle, and Tito next to me with the door closed. My fiance let me know that our friend (same friend was incident #1) was coming over WITH her 8 year old son. I told her that I would crate both the dogs upstairs while they were over to avoid any issues. I walked out of the office and closed the door so the dogs couldn't see our guests. I was chatting with our friend, and hanging out with her son while we waited for dinner to be done. I fell asleep on the couch (it was a 10 hour work day), and napped for about an hour with the dogs still inside the office. My fiancé didn't want to wake me since she knew I was exhausted, so she leashed both dogs and took them outside to go potty. The 8 year old was on his iPad in the living room while his mom was in the bathroom. My fiancé took the boys to the top of the stairs to get back into our house and had them in a sit-stay command to re-attach their leashes before entering our house through the kitchen. Tito broke command and my fiancé could not get his leash attached in time. Before you know it he pushes the door into the kitchen open and is running full speed to get to me (also has separation anxiety and needs to be near me at all times). In order to get to me on the couch however, he needs to pass the kitchen. As he is running through the kitchen, our friend's son is holding his iPad. Now, he knows that Tito had previously bit his mother, so he was TERRIFIED when he saw him running towards us. The son started screaming, with his hands in the air which at this point I woke up, jumping off the couch. Tito turned back around, and as he did the son threw his iPad at Tito. Tito latched onto the boy's thigh, biting him. Thankfully, as soon as he made contact, he immediately let go but the damage was already done. I picked up our friend's son, took him to the tub to clean/disinfect the bite which had two puncture marks (worse than any previous bite). We took him to the ER and thankfully the doctor said that it wasn't too bad and that it should heal in about a week or so. My fiancé and I were devasted. This poor boy was now traumatized due to our recklessness and inability to manage our reactive dog. My fiancé came into this relationship with (1) dog, while I had Tito and our golden doodle. She didn't sign up to live on eggshells and I commend her for all of her support BUT I feel TERRIBLE that now none of her friends feel safe coming to our home. I spent about two weeks researching behavioral euthanasia and we were committed to moving forward with it in February of this year - until the guilt set in. A few months past, no incidents, until about Mid-March. INCIDENT #4: I already mentioned that I had Tito and our golden doodle (name is Archie) before I met my fiance. She already had a 7 year old Lab/Pit Mix named Jasmine so thankfully we were able to get all three dogs to peacefully co-exist (for the most part). Jasmine is an "old soul" and doesn't like any sudden movements or play while she's around - she has her quirks. I was letting all three dogs out in the backyard one afternoon (this was late March of this year), and decided to play fetch with Archie (golden doodle). Jasmine was waiting by the door to get back into the house as I threw the ball for Archie. In order to get to the ball, he had to run past Jasmine. Archie knows exactly how she would react, so he slowed down, and tip toed past her to safely get to the ball. In that moment, Jasmine turned around and attacked Archie, pinning him to the ground. As I am trying to remove Jasmine off of Archie, Tito comes in from left field and attacks Jasmine. All of this happened within a second and I didn't realize that there was any serious damage until we were in the house much later. Jasmine had a three-inch laceration on her under belly, exposing the muscle with the skin/fur nowhere in sight. We immediately rushed her to the ER to which she ended up having to get 14 stitches. For the record, she is fine now but still a terrifying sight. Yet another tipping point, but we still held off on BE.
INCIDENT #5: On Friday night (two days ago), I was letting the dogs out. Now let me preface by saying that the house we live in is a multi-family home where we live on the 2nd/3rd floor, while the first floor is its own apartment/unit. My fiancé's brother, his girlfriend, and their dog actually occupy this space, so we typically text each other when one of us needs to let the dogs out. We always make sure that the backyard is cleared before letting our dogs out to avoid any potential conflict/injury. I shot over a text and let them know that I would be in the backyard (it is about 10:30 pm, and it's DARK). Her brother acknowledged, and I even made a joke about how Tito was crazy because he spotted a rat in our backyard and chased it to the garage. All of a sudden, I hear their backdoor open and their dog Bronny comes towards us in a full sprint. The brother's girlfriend didn't know we were in the yard, as he told her right when she was opening the door. At this point it was too late. Bronnie and Tito have NEVER met aside from smelling each other's markings in the yard when the other isn't present. Before I could even visually spot Bronny (dark, brindle coat), Tito had his teeth around Bronny's neck. I was able to pry Tito's mouth off him, to which Bronny ran inside their apartment, however Tito followed suit. He got a hold of him AGAIN and I had to pry his teeth off, and sort of nudge Bronny away while I got a good grip on Tito (had no collar on so I had to get a good grip on his scruff). Bronny had peed all over himself, scared shitless. I took the boys upstairs to their crates, and came back down to check on him. The punctures weren't too deep and they said they would take him to the vet. I FEEL AWFUL. Although I gave them a warning that we were in the yard, it is my responsibility to keep everyone safe from our dog. Bronny, who is typically a very rambunctious, silly dog, turned on me earlier today when I said hi in the backyard by myself. He tried to bite me, and the brother had to pull him off. I am responsible for this dog's pain, fear, and trauma. Turns out Bronny's neck had swelled up, creating an abyss. They just got back from the vet, and he needed to be sedated so that they could drain the fluid. I feel so much shame and guilt and don't know if I could live with this happening AGAIN.
What more can I do? - Training, training, training, every single day (making sure his physical needs are met along with adequate mental stimulation) - Worked with several trainers, all of which concluded that this is just who he is - Lots of LOVE, PLAY, and more LOVE - Prong collar (no longer using as it makes his reactivity worse) - E-Collar (no longer using as it only amplifies his redirection) - Behavior modification in conjunction with medication - Has a daily routine and is given jobs
I don't know what else I can do - how can I continue to justify keeping him alive? He is my soul-dog, my best friend, my boy. He has so much love for us and can be the most amazing dog - until he isn't. He would be the greatest dog if it wasn't for his reactivity but what can you do? These were the cards we were dealt. I quite honestly believe that it all comes down to genetics and it is a uphill battle every day. Whoever decided to breed and produce Tito and his litter mates is a backyard breeding POS.
It kills me that I took in this sweet puppy, did everything I possibly could to give him a great life, and it still wasn't enough. It kills me that I am so irresponsible and selfish, that I decided to keep him alive after each and every bite incident. I feel so bad for my fiancé as she knows how hard this decision is for me and yet after everything that has happened, continues to support my decision to keep him alive despite all the pain he has caused us. I can't continue to make excuses for my dog. I can't keep walking on eggshells in my own home, putting the safety of our cats, other dogs, and neighbors at risk because I LOVE MY DOG. My love can't make him a stable, neutral dog.
The thought of taking him to the vet, watching him lay on a metal table breaks my heart. Having him look me in the eyes as he takes his last breath, thinking that we'll leave to go home any minute, brings me to tears. How could I fail this loving boy who would do ANYTHING for me? How can I walk out of the vet clinic with only a leash and no dog looking up at me like I am their whole entire world? This isn't fair. We will be booking an appointment for next Sunday. I plan on taking PTO from work next Friday and Monday so that we can have one last incredible weekend together.
If you have any ideas of how we can make the most of our time, please share. This is going to be the hardest decision of my life and I am not ready to lose my best friend. Thank you for listening.

How did y’all try to stay comfy during the last few weeks?? 37+5 and I’m struggling.
2-3 weeks ago I started having flu-like symptoms. I had an appointment scheduled with my primary care within a few days so I kept it and they tested for Covid/Flu/RSV/Strep and all of them were negative and was basically told it was allergies so I ended up getting a prescription for Cetirizine. Exactly a week ago I started having diarrhea out of the blue. From Sunday night all the way to Wednesday I was constantly on the toilet, my fiancé even said how I went to the bathroom, fell asleep for about 4 minutes and got up and went back to the bathroom. I vomited ALL DAY Thursday. Didn’t matter what it was, I couldn’t even handle ice chips. I had major back pain and slight pelvic cramping Thursday as well but it seems to have calmed down a lot. (Note- I was working all week and my hospital manager is a retired nurse of 30+ years so he was filled in on everything and said that I’m probably having pre-labor symptoms).
Wednesday was my last appointment with the high-risk OBGYN (my son has a two vessel umbilical cord) and they said they wouldn’t be surprised if I went into labor within the next week. I haven’t had a cervical check or even my strep b test (regular OB has moved my appointment twice now, I see them this Thursday if they don’t reschedule) and I just feel like nobody is listening to me. I’m miserable, can’t lay down. Can’t breathe. Outrageous back pain (but not enough to consider anything of it). Pelvic cramps that come and go like period cramps and I SWEAR it feels like a little hand is gripping my vagina. I’ve slept majority of the past 3 days and I’ve started becoming more irritable and just wanting to be left alone. I really just want to know that others have experienced this and ways to help me feel better (if there are any).
This is my first post so I’ll try to edit it to make it easier to understand & I’ll try to answer any questions.. not too familiar with the Reddit stuff 😅

What you are about to read is both a confession and an apology. I don't know how much time I have so I will keep it as short as I can. I was coming back home from work a few nights ago. It was dark and I was tired from my shift when suddenly a deer ran out in front of my truck. I locked my brakes but couldn't stop in time. Feeling my heart pounding I just sat in my truck, staring at the motionless deer laying in the middle of the road. I had never killed anything before, intentionally or accidentally. As much as I wanted to get home, take a shower and go to bed, I couldn't just let it lay there. Someone could run it over causing real damage to their undercarriage or, God forbid, they swerve to avoid it and end up falling over a hundred feet into the river below, hitting dozens of trees on the way down. I couldn't let that be on my conscience, so I did what the good lord Jesus would have done. I put on my emergency lights and got out of the truck to pull the carcass off the road. However, as I was doing this I saw something move in the deers lower gut. Seeing this made my heart sink because at the time I thought maybe the dead deer was going to give birth. While holding in a gag and pulling the body to get it off the road, whatever was in the deer crawled out of its… backside, ran up the leg I was holding onto and bit my hand. It was too fast and the night was too dark so I have no idea what it could have been. Instinctively I flung the creature off of me and heard it scamper away through the grass. Wondering what the hell just attacked me, I inspected the wound. The wound produced very little blood and looked no worse than what a cat would do when it plays a little too roughly. Since my heart was pounding out of my chest and I had most of the deer carcass off the road, I figured I had done my duty and it was time to head home. As soon as I got home, I barely had the energy to take off my clothes, so all hopes I had of taking a shower were lost and as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out like a light. The next morning I felt sluggish and cold. My teeth were chattering violently. It reminded me of a flu, however my nose wasn’t stuffed up and I wasn’t congested. The wound on my hand was red, but not swollen. Still, I was worried and made a call to set up a doctor's appointment. Thankfully I was able to get seen right away, however after the exam the doctor said he could find nothing wrong with me but the blood tests would take a few days before the results would come in. I am not the kind of person to tell someone how to do their job, especially if their job meant years of education and twice that many having their own practice. However I made it clear that I strongly disagreed with what the doctor said. When I got home, my stomach was complaining. I ate shortly before getting off work the day before so there was no reason for my stomach to complain as much as it was. I tried eating soup but it tasted like fermenting compost. No joke, that's what it tasted like. When I checked the expiration date, I was surprised that it still had eight months left before it was considered bad. At the time I figured that whatever was wrong with me was affecting my senses. My grandma said that 7Up and ginger ale was as close to magic as it gets when it comes to being sick, but since I didn't have any in the house, I made a few calls and had it delivered. However, that too tasted bad. My stomach kept complaining so in an attempt to silence it, I decided to make something that I could never resist. My moms specialty: meatloaf. If nothing else, it was comfort food and my favorite as a kid. Lo and behold, it tasted amazing. However when I tried adding ketchup like I always did, I nearly gagged from the smell of it. I ended up eating all of it in a single sitting and afterwards I felt really good. So good in fact that I decided to head into town to pick up a few groceries. As I walked around with the shopping cart, going down the same aisles as I always did, the items I usually got held no appeal. I love bananas, but they smelt like they had been soaking in gasoline for a few days, the vegetables stank of curdled milk and the cheese might as well have been… Well, I’ll let you imagine what that smelt like. The only thing that smelt good was the meat. No, it didnt smell good. It smelt divine, the way I imagine heaven smells like. I filled up my cart with hamburger, chicken breasts, pork chops, pork butt, whole turkeys, chicken legs, ribs, spiral hams, bacon, hotdogs and so much more. People looked at me funny as I went to pay for the items and some even asked if I was planning on having a cookout. I am ashamed to admit it, but I snapped at those people and told them it wasn't any of their business. When I got home I felt sick again and decided that some pork chops were in order. As I started to get everything ready, I opened the cream of mushroom and the smell that emerged from the can made me throw up in the sink. Later I checked the expiration date and saw that it still had a few months to go. The can wasn’t dented or punctured, so there was no reason for it to smell rancid. I cooked the pork chops plain only adding a little olive oil on the bottom of the glassware so it wouldn't stick. The wait seemed to take forever. At some point before the pork chops were done I found myself mindlessly eating away at the raw hamburger. Taking grape sized pinches here and there. I knew it was disgusting, but I couldn't stop myself. Each bite hit the spot and scratched an itch I didn't know I had. By this time it was after office hours but I called the general practitioner to see if there were any updates. All the while, I kept eating the raw meat. I was too embarrassed to tell them about my new eating habits and instead sounded like an idiot when I had nothing to say other than to ask about the blood test, which I knew the results would be in sometime next week. Because of this I could tell the person on the other line was annoyed. I spent the rest of the day eating and worrying. I must have paced for a few miles before I decided to go to bed. At the time I figured that I might be able to sleep off whatever was happening to me, and if this was not to be it would make the day that the blood test comes in arrive faster. However I couldn't go a few hours without food before the cravings made me wake up and rummage through the fridge. I blacked out at some point during the night and found myself outside at the wooden fence, trying to bait the neighbor's cat with a raw chicken leg that I already ate half of. I was scared. Paranoid that whatever bit my hand might have given me something really nasty. But I knew that worrying about it wasn't going to do me any favors so I decided to do what I normally do to clear my head and went for a drive. Usually this would have worked, but my stomach kept complaining. I had been eating for nearly a day straight, so I knew I wasn't hungry. What else could I do other than wait for the blood test to come back? Trying to distract myself, I decided to turn on the radio and listen to one of the three radio stations that worked in town. As I was fumbling with the knobs in my old beat up truck, I turned the corner and saw a man walking across the street to get his mail. I hit the brakes as hard as I could, but it was too little too late and he bounced off the grill and went flying through the air. Terrified, I ran out to see if there was anything I could do to help him, but when I drew close I could see that he was all sorts of messed up. He was conscious and asked me to give him a ride to the hospital because he would not be able to afford the bill for an ambulance. However, that was when I noticed that the femur was sticking out of his leg. I licked my lips and before I knew it I started biting and eating around the bone as the man screamed, and in his condition he was unable to get away or fight me off. I don't know how much time passed, but at some point I became aware that people were starting to gather. All of them were too shocked to do anything but stare. Embarrassed and terrified, I ran to the truck and drove off. It wasn't like I could go anywhere. Since Gray Hill is a small town, most of the onlookers knew who I was. So I did the only thing I could think of and went home. There is so much more I want to say, but I don't have much time. The sirens are getting louder. I am sorry.

Background: 2019 MBP. Had issues in the past. First time they replaced the trackpad and battery (not sure why). Didn't fix the issue. This was about 7 months ago. Brought it back a week later, this time they replaced the main board.
Since that time, the computer has worked well overall, but about once every 4 weeks it will randomly BLAST the fan for 1 second and then die. It happens almost exactly every month on average. Sometimes 2 weeks, sometimes 6 weeks.
Whenever this happens, I take a screen shot of the crash report when I reboot. I have a folder called "crash reports" with 6-7 reports in them, all named according to the date that they happened.
This isnt that big of an issue for me, but it has been getting annoying especially if I am in the middle of something. Luckily I have not lost any work due to these crashes. I have been keeping the reports in order to one day show apple, but it hasnt been bad enough or urgent enough to make an appointment.
Today I fell asleep watching a game with the computer on my stomach. It slipped off my stomach off the couch and hit the floor, cracking the screen beyond use. This is clearly user error. I can still plug it into my monitor and external keyboard/mouse, but the laptop's screen and keyboard are toast.
I have scheduled a genius appointment for later this week. I have apple care and a good relationship with the store manager who helped me when I had my issues last year.
Am I screwed? Is there any chance that I can get covered by apple care? Maybe I just suck it up and use it as a desktop from now on? Any thoughts and strategies much appreciated. Thank you.

In hindsight, I should have listened to the kill-bill alarm bells in my head when eight-year-old Cassie announced she and her cabin mates were going to skip out on camp activities and play Operation instead.
Though it’s not like I didn’t have things on my mind. Seven counsellors had gone missing—along with our head counsellor who was supposed to be taking care of us.
It started out fairly normal. I mean, one or two counselors wasn’t bad, right?
Lily and Joey had been drowning in sexual tension for a while, so nobody was surprised when they sneaked into the woods for what I could only guess was the most uncomfortable sex ever. But then they didn’t come back.
Teddy and Yuri went to look for them, and then they too also disappeared. It was almost like a wild animal was lying in wait for another unsuspecting teenager to cross its path.
With six of us left, I was definitely freaking out.
I wasn’t expecting summer camp to be like this. I did consider working in my local Sephora, but mom had a preference—and whether I was eighteen years old or not, she was getting her way. So, it was goodbye civilization, and hello Canadian wilderness.
There were fifteen kids queued up in front of me for lunch, and I was having a hard time keeping that optimistic Camp Redwood smile.
I couldn’t help constantly counting how many hours it had been since the latest disappearance, Connor.
He was supposed to be helping with getting the emergency generator going, after the electricity sizzled out.
The boy was gone an hour later. This was happening fast. Whatever was going on with the counsellors was burning through all of us. Would it happen to me?
I had seen so many TV shows and movies set in a summer camp where every camper and counsellor was doomed to die in the grossest way possible. Was that going to happen to us?
I tightened my grip around the stupid ladle I had found myself stirring, a giant pot of chocolate syrup. Watching watery chocolate drip from the edge, I felt nauseous. Of all the summer camp’s mom had to send me to, it had to be the one with vanishing counsellors and zero adult authority. Which meant we were the authority. Twelve teenagers who came to relax and babysit a bunch of little kids before college.
We had to put on brave faces and pretend everything was absolutely fine—and we weren’t all terrified out of our fucking minds.
At the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Harry offering piggybacks to a bunch of little kids, with one of the littles, Eleanor, wrapping her arms around his neck and squealing.
From the look on the boy’s face, he wanted to stop. It was hard to keep a façade when reality was becoming harder and harder to bear. Abandoning his hat completely, Harry was dripping with sweat, trying to twist his lips into the Camp Redwood grin. But looking closer, as he galloped across the cabin with Eleanor holding on for dear life, the guy was ready to collapse. I didn’t blame him.
Entertaining the kids was supposed to be Teddy’s assignment—and he was who knows where. I had taken over lunch duties for Lily, who had joined the long list of the missing.
Harry was supposed to be joining the search party for the missing councellors, but had ended up becoming the little’s personal punching bag.
When I first met him, Harry Carlisle had been the kid who sat on the side-lines and offered sarcastic remarks and crude jokes. Now, he had been reduced to a playground ride the kids pretended didn’t have an off switch.
He had enjoyed maybe the first two rides to raise morale, but now I could see the strain in his eyes. “Ow!” Harry winced when the little girl’s fingers prodded at his eyes. “Hey! Eleanor, not my eyes!” He was dangerously close to toppling over, though managed to catch his footing, ordering all of them off of his back. “Horse Rides are over!” He cupped his mouth, shouting across the cabin when a group of kids surrounded him with equally terrifying faces. Harry backed away and threw his hands up. “Come on, guys, my back isn’t built for all of you!”
“Horsey!” The kids shouted back in a cacophony of giggles.
It was 10 against one.
Against two, if I got involved. Which wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I was putting effort into play-fighting a bunch of eight-year-olds. Harry shot me a hopeful look, though I pretended not to see, busying myself with slightly burned nuggets.
Running his fingers through thick strands of sandy colored hair, Harry pulled a face when a little girl, Phoebe, was brave enough to step forward.
“No.” Harry shook his head, squeezing the front of his counsellor shirt practically glued to him. The temperature still hadn’t let up, and it was heading towards 8PM. Night-time, I thought dizzily. It was almost bedtime, and still no adults. “I refuse to surrender,” He told her. “Phoebe, I am not joking around when I’m saying my back is hurting. We’ve been playing horsey’s for two hours.”
“So?”
“So!” Harry couldn’t yell or hiss, or swear at them. That was a big no-no with kids.
However, I could see he was coming close to breaking that rule. “Because I’m tired,” he said through a Camp Redwood grin, which was quickly twitching into a grimace.
I think all of us had given up with the fake enthusiasm when our colleagues started to vanish. Now, we were just shells of our former happy selves. “And… uh… did you know that if you ride a horsey at this time, the ghosts will come and get you?”
When a boy opened his mouth, his eyes widening with fright, Harry realized his mistake.
“I mean the nice ghosts! Yeah! The uh, the nice ghosts who haunt..I mean play in these woods? It’s a well-known Camp Redwood legend that ghosts don’t like horse rides. In fact,” his lips curved into a devilish smile now he had several faces staring at him. The kids dropped onto the ground to listen, their hands clasped in their laps. This was the quietest they had been all day. I could understand though. Harry had taken the reins around the campfire telling ghost stories for three nights in a row, and the guy was a damn good storyteller.
With every eye on him, Harry lowered his voice into a whisper. “Do you guys want to know what they do?”
The kids nodded with wide eyes.
“They sneak into unsuspecting cabin’s…”
“Harry.”
Rowan’s voice came from outside in a warning. The window was open, and the guy was standing watch to see if any counsellors came back. Since the only adult had disappeared, he had been appointed leader—and the guy was taking himself a little too seriously.
His warning was valid though. Sometimes Harry’s ghost stories were a little too scary for little kids, who’s Imaginations tended to run wild—especially at night. Olive, my cabin-mate, had to give up her bed for a little girl who was convinced Harry’s depiction of Slenderman, “The tree boy” was going to sneak into her bed and turn her into an apple seed.
“Did I say sneak into cabin’s? I meant dance around the woods…” Harry corrected himself. “And they look for their next unsuspecting victim…”
“Harry!”
“Friend.” Harry swallowed his words when a little boy’s eyes went wide. “I mean they are looking for a friend! So, the point of my story is…”
“Horsey rides get us new friends?” Phoebe wasn’t buying it. I could tell from the slight arch of her brow and her widening smile.
The girl shook dark curls out of her face, smirking. I think it was her pleading eyes which won him over. Because, with a sigh which definitely wasn’t joking around, the guy dropped onto his knees and practically spat at her to climb on his back—and she did, plonking one sparkling shoe on top of the boy’s spine with enough force to send him onto his stomach. I might have been imagining it, but since when were these littles so outlandishly spiteful?
The little girl was grinning. Not because she could ride her “horsey” but because Harry looked like he was going to either wring her neck, or wring his own. Mom had a “talk” before I started here, and she made sure to tell me that if adult authority is nowhere to be seen, little kids will start to act out.
I could definitely call it acting out, but I had spent all day with her several days earlier playing with dolls and having a teddy bear picnic when she admitted she didn’t want to swim in the lake with the other kids. Phoebe had been shy and only spoke to me through her teddy bear, so what had changed?
Could the lack of adults really be scaring the kids that much?
“Miss Josie?”
I wasn’t paying attention, half noticing some kids had just helped themselves, piling chicken nuggets and cookies on plastic plates and hurrying to their seats like I couldn’t see them.
Blinking away brain fog, I found myself face to face with Eli, who was probably my favorite camper.
You’re not supposed to have personal preferences when working with little kids, because your opinions could upset them.
However, it was incredibly hard not to like Eli.
Hiding behind a mop of brown curls, the boy was one of the more vocal kids in the group. Eli said he wanted to be an inventor when he was older, and he wanted to make robots. The kid had asked me if I wanted to see his robot collection, but I was too busy with setting up camp activities. Standing in front of me and clutching his tray, the boy was frowning.
“Josie, I just saw some kids steal chicken nuggets.”
I shrugged, shovelling a large portion on his tray. “Well, you can have some extra too.”
Eli’s smile wasn’t as big as usual. “Where’s Teddy?”
I pretended to be oblivious, hastily adding more nuggets to his tray as if I could keep his mouth shut with extra food. “He’ll be back soon! Teddy is just playing in the woods.”
“No, he’s not.”
At first, I thought I’d heard the boy wrong. The kid wasn’t looking at me, counting his nuggets as usual with the prongs of his plastic fork.
I leaned forward with my best smile. “I’m sorry, what was that, Eli?”
The kid lifted his head with a wide grin. “Can I borrow a knife, Josie?”
“Why do you need a knife?”
Leaning forward, the boy shrugged. “There’s a squirrel caught in a trap,” he said. “I want to put it out of its misery, Miss Josie. It’s in a lot of pain.”
That was… dark.
“Well, I can’t give you a knife…” I trailed off, my gaze finding Harry and the growing line of kids awaiting a horse-ride. “But! How about you go and ask Harry for a piggy-back ride?” I pointed to myself with a forced grin. “I’ll save the squirrel!” And when the boy’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, I reached out, grasped his hand, and squeezed it as tight as I could. “Eli, we don’t need to do that, okay? I’m sure the squirrel can be saved and I’ll make sure to take it to the vet, okay?”
“But what if it doesn’t need saving?”
I squeezed tighter. “I’ll save it, Eli. I promise.”
Eli didn’t look convinced, but he nodded with a grumble. “Okay.” He said, before twisting around and joining the other kids torturing Harry. Immediately, I left my station—whether Rowan liked it or not—and headed outside to look for this supposedly dying squirrel. That was something we didn’t need. The sky was darkening when I made it into the woods, cotton candy clouds blurring through the thick canopy of trees. Eli said it was near the sign pointing towards the lake. Though I couldn’t see anything. Odd. That thought retracted in my head, however, when I stepped forward, and a squelching sound cut through the silence of my own heavy breaths mixing with insect chitters and nightlife buzzing above me and beneath me. The wet sounding squelch twisted my gut, and when I stared down at the ground, I didn't know what I was expecting.
A squashed squirrel, perhaps? In Eli’s words, the poor thing had been on the edge of death. Though, when I was thinking about it, there were no animal traps around camp. That was basic health and safety. So, what the fuck was I looking at? The bottom of my shoe was caked in dried blood, but it was the thing which was stamped into the dirt which sent my heart into my throat. It looked like an eye.
But looking closer as I lowered myself to the ground, I glimpsed something metallic, something glistening around the pupil. I picked up a stick and prodded it, though the thing didn’t move. It was definitely an eye—the eye of some kind of animal, judging from the pigmentation and the color of the iris.
But it was the metallic pieces around the eye which was throwing me off. Part of a trap, maybe? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that a poor critter had been ripped apart, and a wild bear had dropped its dinner near the camp—and the metal encasing its eye was most likely pieces of trap.
Peering closer, though, I glimpsed silver slithers in what appeared to be the destroyed nerve caked to my shoe. After scraping most of it off, I caught glistening pieces of blood stained metal catching the late-setting sun. This time, I pinched a piece between my forefinger and thumb. It didn’t look like a bear-trap. The metal itself wasn’t serrated or old. In fact, it was new.
Which begged the question: What was this thing?
Whatever it was, it had started converting what looked like a critter’s eye, before stopping. Was it a virus? When that thought slammed into me, I fell back with a hiss, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I almost jumped out of my skin, diving to my feet.
Carmel was standing behind me, grasping what looked like her sixth or seventh coffee. The girl had been running to and from the coffee machine all day, and I had been silently counting how much caffeine she was consuming. Carmel had been a well put together and fairly popular girl when camp started. She immediately had everyone following her beck and call, all of the boy’s (and girl’s) following her around.
Carmel wasn't straight. She made that clear on the bus to camp, announcing she wasn’t interested in guy’s, and that she had a girlfriend back home. Still though, the guy’s still followed her because... well, she was pretty.
Carmel was my bunk-mate and had woken me up on three separate occasions at 6am to go through the exact same hair and makeup routine. Now though, there was no sign of makeup or even that she had brushed her hair.
Instead of its usual tidy blonde ponytail, Carmel’s curls were tied into raggedy pigtails with ribbons I was sure she had stolen from a camper’s doll. I think what was keeping her going was coffee.
Carmel regarded me with too-wide eyes and a Camp Redwood smile we all knew was fake. She was grasping onto her coffee cup for dear life. “Josie!” she jumped when I jumped, which almost made me laugh. “Rowan’s having an emergency meeting in his cabin,” she said.
“So, whatever you’re doing can wait.”
Her gaze flicked to the ground. “What… are you doing?”
For a brief moment, I considered telling Carmel I may have found what looked like a virus which turned flesh and blood to metal—before I remembered her reaction when a spider had crept into our cabin.
Whatever this thing was, keeping it a secret for now was probably what was best. Making sure I was standing on the thing, I shrugged. “I was looking for the others.”
Carmel cocked her head, before resting her coffee on the ground. “In the dirt?”
“Footprints, Carmel.”
The girl looked confused before shaking her head. “Okay, whatever. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec, I just need to make sure the kids are okay. We’re putting a movie on for them in the lunch hall, so that will hopefully distract them for maybe two hours.”
I nodded. “Did anyone find a phone?”
“Not with signal.”
“Carmel.” I had to fight back the urge to yell at her to keep her voice down. Kids were curious, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we had some littles peeking into our conversation. “You’re okay.” I said softly.
“I mean, we’re not okay, because yes, things are very.. screwed up right now, but we need to be… optimistic.” I exhaled out a breath, searching for eyes in the dark. I tried to smile, tried to keep up that Camp Redwood façade we were all held hostage by until the last day of camp (According to rule 5 in the Camp Redwood counsellor handbook, all counsellors must retain a smile and a positive attitude. If any counselor is caught making a frowny face, or spreading what we call “unhappiness” we will be forced to send the counselor home).
At this point, I didn’t give a fuck—but part of me didn’t want to scare the little kids.
“No, Josie.” The girl grasped hold of my shoulders with a grin rivalling the joker. “I am so sick of being told to keep smiling, because what is that doing? Three of my cabin-mates are missing! I’m the one left, and Rowan and co expect me to keep up this act? We are fucked!"
She cupped her mouth. “F. U. C. K. E. D. We have zero adults, an unexplainable loss of power every few hours which makes no sense in the middle of nowhere—I mean what the fuck is out there which is sucking that much power, huh? There is no explanation! There should be an explanation. I should be able to think, “oh, yeah! That’s why! But no. Things are happening, and I don’t know why they’re happening. Rowan is trying to force us to act like things are okay —but in reality? He is shitting himself, Josie! We are ALL shitting ourselves!”
I took a step back, keeping hold of her hand. Carmel was trembling, her hands clammy and slimy entangled in mine. “He's just trying to keep the kids from freaking out."
She groaned, tears glistening in her eyes. “Okay, yeah! I’m blaming them because they keep acting like everything is okay—”
“Everything IS okay.” I turned to her with what I hoped was a reassuring smile—knowing damn well about the thing I’d found in the dirt. If that thing could spread, it would have a field day in an enclosed space like a summer camp.
I noticed my own hands which had been touching the thing making contact with Carmel, and dropped my hands, inwardly squirming.
If that thing was a virus, I was already fucked.
Maybe Carmel too.
If it was fast acting, it could explain the counsellor disappearances. I was already putting together a plan in my head as we headed back to the main cabin. We had to put together a search party. Some of us would stay with the kids, while a small group would venture into the woods to try and look for traces of the missing. If I was right, we would find a horror scene in the woods, and yes, that would be the time to panic.
If I was wrong, however, there was still hope.
“Are we going to be okay?”
Carmel’s voice sliced into my thoughts, and I took a moment to drink in the camp around us.
Usually, when the sky was turning twilight, it would be bustling with campers and counselors toasting marshmallows on the fire and gathering around to fall asleep to Harry’s ghost stories. Carmel would be knelt with a bunch of kids, watching a YouTube video they had all insisted on her watching, while Rowan would be hiding behind his book with his knees to his chest, his gaze glued to every page he flicked through, ignoring everyone.
Teddy, making funny faces for kids who were scared, and Connor, handing out plates of burgers and hot dogs. I remembered feeling safe and at home, cosy around the flickering orange of the fire as chatter turned to laughter and white-noise in my head. After the kids went back to their cabins, the group of us would resume positions around the fire, but this time it was more… intimate. With Allison in her cabin, we kind of ignored her rules all together.
Making out happened, because of course it did. Beers stolen from Allison’s mini fridge and raging hormones, as well as late-night skinny dipping in the lake did that. Couples went off into the woods, and we all felt completely comfortable and at home with each other.
Looking around at that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. That feeling was gone.
The feeling of family and familiarity and friendship. What I was looking at now was that same log we had all sat on, now turned on its side—hot dog buns and candy wrappers littering the ground. It was a ghost camp.
I could still see Connor’s jacket slung on the ground, and Lili’s bright pink ray bans sitting on a beer can. Because there were no adults to yell at us to clean up after ourselves. I was frowning at the skeleton of the fire when Carmel nudged me. “Hey.” Her voice was shaking slightly. “Josie? You didn’t answer my question.” Carmel wanted me to be the voice of reason, and I wasn’t that. I was just as scared as her.
There was only so much I could sugar-coat, and I gave up doing that after the third counsellor disappeared. All I could offer her was forced optimism.
“Yes.” I said. “Just keep the kids busy, alright?”
“Right.”
When I was twisting around and power-walking to Rowan’s cabin, I shouted over my shoulder, “Give them some of those animal crackers!”
“What animal crackers?”
I turned to elaborate, but Carmel was gone.
When I finally got to Rowan’s cabin, I was sweating through my shirt, and had an idea of what I was going to tell the others. It was… a thing. Which could be considered a disease or a virus—so it was vital that we split into two groups; half of us would search for the others, while the others would look for anything to get in contact with the outside world. An emergency landline, laptop, or cell phone.
I did have one problem, which was lack of evidence. All which was left from the thing I’d found was stuck to my foot. The rest of it was buried in the dirt. It was too dark to search for it, and we would be wasting time doing so.
All of that was in my mind and tangled on my tongue, one single string of incomprehensible gibberish I wasn’t even sure was English, when I stepped into Rowan’s cabin, where four sets of eyes met mine. Olive, cross legged on the floor with her arms folded, Harry, pacing up and down with a brand new bruise blooming under his eye, courtesy of Eleanor almost poking his eyes out—and Rowan himself sitting on top bunk, his legs swinging off of the side.
The guy wasn’t built to be our leader, originally being the laziest of our group, opting for sitting in a tree with a book, rather than helping set up camp activities. Yet he had become our default guy in charge because he so happened to be wearing the head counsellor hat when Allison disappeared. Admittedly, it suited him, the bright red of the cap contrasted his dark curls under a late setting sun through the back window, setting strands of straying hair on fire.
The hat was a little too big for his head, though, slipping over his eyes.
Rowan looked like a divorced father of two, dark circles bruising his eyes, and a very “dad-like” scowl curling on his lips.
With a clipboard pressed to his chest, and a pen he was chewing on, the boy resembled a grown man who had just caught his daughter coming in after curfew. “Josie.” Spitting the pen’s lid out of his mouth, he scribbled something down. I had no doubt he was tracking my attendance for these stupid crisis meetings. His eyes were wild, scanning me for answers. “Where the fuck is Carmel?”
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it with my arms folded. “So, we can swear now?”
“Yes.” Rowan rolled his eyes. “There are no kids here, so go crazy,” he pointed at me with the pen. “Carmel. Where is she?”
“Keeping the kids busy,” Callan’s muffled voice came from the bottom bunk. I could barely see the guy lying on his stomach, his face stuffed into a pillow. “It was my idea to play Shrek for them, but the little shits said they haven’t seen it,” the boy lifted his head, his lips carved into a scowl. “I’m sorry, am I tripping? Everyone’s seen Shrek! Do these kids expect the Minecraft movie?”
“They don’t like that, either,” Harry stopped pacing the cabin. “Eleanor looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if she liked it."
“Fortnite, too.” Olive said, a cushion pressed to her chest. “I suggested playing it a few days ago, and like, zero kids knew what it was.”
“Six counsellors are missing,” Rowan raised his voice over the other’s chatter. “And you’re questioning what games they like?” His eyes found mine once more. “So, Carmel is with the kids? You’re absolutely sure of it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just saw her five minutes ago.”
“Great.” Rowan said, sarcastically. “I’m sure she won’t go missing under mysterious circumstances.”
“Stop.” Olive shot him a glare, throwing a cushion in his face. “I told you. They’re probably lost—- or maybe they went to get help?”
“We’ve all been trained to know every inch of these woods,” Rowan catapulted the cushion right back at her. “They’re not lost.”
“Well, where are they?!” Callan sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. I had never seen the guy looked this vulnerable. “Allison made sense. She probably had other duties, and left us to look after the kids. But six counselors? All of them disappearing—- our phone signal completely cutting out, electricity cutting off, not once, but twice? What is even sucking all of our power?”
“I got the emergency generator working,” Olive raised her arm. “Connor and I managed it before…” she trailed off.
“Before Connor disappeared.” Callan finished for her. “And before him, it was Joey, Lily, Mira, Yuri, Noah, and Teddy. Which isn’t a fucking coincidence,” he shot Rowan a look, who glared down at his lap. I could tell the boy didn’t want to lead all of us, come up with plans and answer questions we desperately needed answering. His job was to look after us, as well as the littles, and so far, he was doing a pretty good job. I could tell by his expression that he thought the opposite, but he had managed to keep the kids from finding out about something as sinister as someone actively kidnapping counsellors.
He made sure they were fed, entertained, and safe watching a movie—while we were scared for our lives. Rowan was keeping up the façade no matter how scared he was. The boy dropped his head into his lap with a sigh. It looked like he might fall asleep before he slammed the clipboard into his face to wake himself up.
Nobody wanted to admit what Callan was saying, but we were all definitely thinking it. “This was planned.” Callan continued.
“Someone out here is fucking with us, very clearly trying to freak us out. Now they've got six of us. ” He spread out his arms. “How long until one of the littles gets taken, huh? A bunch of 18 year olds aren’t going to satisfy them, so what about when they start taking campers? We are in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere with a serial kidnapper on the loose, and did we really just leave fifteen kids in the care of a girl who thought Australia was in England?”
“In Carmel’s defence, she was black-out drunk when she said that,” Olive murmured.
“Voice down!” Rowan hissed. “Do you want to scare them?!” His gaze flicked to me. “Did you do a headcount during dinner?”
I nodded. “Fifteen kids all accounted for. Ten are in the lunch hall, and five girls are in Cassie’s cabin playing Operation.”
“All day?” Olive spoke up. “Weren’t they playing that this morning? I tried to get into their cabin to give them breakfast, but they just shooed me away and locked the door.”
“Fuck.” Rowan ran his fingers down his face. “Alright, I’ll go and see what’s going on with them. Knowing Cassie and her friends, they’re probably zonked out on stolen candy. When all of the kids are accounted for in the lunch cabin, we gather outside.”
I swallowed, speaking up. “I actually wanted to talk to you guys about something.”
Rowan lifted his head, jutting the edge of the clipboard into his chin. “Go on…”
“I found something?” I pulled a face. “I mean, think I’ve found something?”
I wasn't sure how to explain to a dwindling group of exhausted teenagers that there may be something even more terrifying than potential kidnappers out there. Four blank faces started back at me, and Rowan leaned forward with a frown. “Like, in general? Josie, we don’t have time to go foraging.”
“You could call it a lead,” I said. “But I need your eyes to find it.”
“Uh-huh. But what is it?”
Thinking back to what exactly I had seen, I had no idea how to describe it. “It’s better if I just… showed you.”
Rowan looked sceptical, but nodded. “Alright. Josie comes with me. We’ll check out Allison’s cabin again to look for an emergency line, and you can show me whatever this ‘thing’ is you’ve found. Then we’ll escort Cassie and the other girl’s to the lunch cabin. Every camper needs an escort from now on. The rest of you? Act normal. If the kids see you freaking out, they will also freak out—and we need to keep up morale.” The boy pointed to Olive. “Olive, you sit in with the kids and look after them. Callan, check out the emergency generator. Harry, the kids see you as a playground ride, so use that to your advantage. Offer them horse rides if they’re scared. And with the ghost stories, it’s making it worse. Give them piggybacks.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Rowan cleared his throat. “We all keep up appearances. If the others turn up, after getting high or… I don’t know, having an orgy in the woods—- I will fucking kill them.” The way he smiled through his teeth, jumping off the bunk, his toes primed like a wild animal, I knew he wasn’t joking. If this was a well-constructed prank the other counselors were playing, I had no doubt Rowan would rip them apart for leaving him as a reluctant leader. To my surprise, the others wandered off with their tasks.
I watched Rowan lift up his pillow and pull out a pack of animal crackers, ripping open the bag and pouring the contents into his mouth. He caught my eye, crunching through mini animal crackers. “I didn’t have lunch,” he said through a mouthful.
I couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief as we headed across camp, Rowan in front of me, while I lagged behind.
“So, what’s the plan?” I caught up to him, almost tripping over a log.
The guy didn’t turn around. “I am completely winging it,” he said through a choked laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and if I’m honest? I just want to go home, dude. I haven’t looked after this many kids in my life, and if I have to smile one more time as a little brat, I am going to fucking lose my mind.” He heaved out a breath. “I am making this up as I go along.”
I laughed that time. “That’s… comforting.”
“Yeah?” He turned to shoot me a grin. “Well, rest assured I am just about as scared—if not more scared than you,” as we stopped in front of Cassie’s cabin, his gaze found mine. “Is it me…” he said softly, “Or does the lunch cabin seem quiet.”
He was right. The windows were dark when they should have been illuminated by the TV screen. Instead of answering, I stepped in front of him, grasping hold of the cabin door. “Cassie?” I knocked three times. “Girl’s, are you okay in there? It’s Josie and Rowan.” I tried the door, and it slid open. Shooting a look at the boy behind me, I turned back to the door. “We’re coming in, okay?”
“Wait!”
Cassie squeaked from inside. “But he’s not finished!”
Ignoring the coil of dread unravelling in my gut, I forced the door open and stepped into unusually milky white light which flooded the cabin. The first thing I saw was eight-year-old Cassie, sitting cross legged with her back to me. She was sitting in a circle with the other girls, no doubt playing their game.
When I stepped closer, however, I noticed something pooling across the wooden floor. It must have been juice or water that they had spilled. I took another step, but this time, clammy fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. Rowan didn't speak, but his eyes were elsewhere. Initially, they had been drinking in the cabin before they found oblivion entirely. I heard his breath start to accelerate, his grip tightening on my wrist.
I had half a mind to pull away, before I saw the body shaped carcass the girls were sitting around. In the dim light of the cabin, it used to be a person. Teddy. I could still see parts of an identity, freckled cheeks and eyes which were still open, still staring at the sky.
But that was where the similarities to the missing counsellor ended. The thing which used to be Teddy was more of a shell, a scooped out thing resembling a human body. What sent me stumbling backwards, my mouth open in a silent scream, was the almost surgical efficiency of each organ's removal, like it really was a game of operation. His heart, lungs, and intestines were in one pile-- while his brain was cupped between little Cassie's bloody hands— and when my gaze found the little girl, Nina, hiding behind dark curly hair, I was seeing what looked like a toy robot’s head in her hands. In my head, I was thinking about the eye with the metallic pieces glittering around its pupil, and something turned in my gut.
Did I find a human eye?
I was staring at the crevice inside the boy's skull, and the boxes of surgical equipment piled on the girl's bunks, when Rowan finally pulled me back, and I was stumbling straight onto my ass. "We need to go." Rowan spoke through a croak. Cassie’s words rattled in my head. Teddy, I thought.
Teddy wasn’t finished.
"Josie. Get up. Now!" My head was spinning, and I was sure I'd thrown up. I didn’t even realize we had managed to stumble from the girl’s cabin before cool air grazed my face, tickling my cheeks. Something wet and warm, and lumpy was spattering the front of my shirt.
Before I could coerce words, the boy was pulling me to my feet, and I was seeing stars in my eyes, blinking brightly. When the two of us started forwards in a run, Rowan stopped abruptly. I followed his gaze to find several kids surrounding his cabin, where Harry, Olive and Callan were. Maybe I was hallucinating, but Eleanor and Phoebe, both of whom wielding weapons where I had no idea where they had gotten them—looked… taller? Rowan didn’t waste time, dragging me back. “Allison’s cabin.” He spoke in cry which became a sob, pulling me across camp, stumbling over rocky ground.
“We need a phone. Fuck, we need a phone. We need a phone.” Rowan was struggling to stand, occasionally bending over and choking up dust.
“They were playing Operation."
Literal operation.
“But they’re just kids!” I choked out.
Little kids, who had surgically removed every organ inside Teddy’s body.
Little kids, who were hunting the other counsellors down, and would surely be coming for us.
Allison’s cabin was thankfully further into the woods. When we were safe inside and Rowan was locking the door, I dry heaved several times, unable to get the sight of glistening gore splattering the cabin floor from my mind. “Josie.” Rowan was already tearing apart the cabin. “Work with me here, okay? We don’t… we don’t have fucking time to freak out, or to barf—we need to help. Now.” Rowan was almost in tears, and when he hit the ground on his knees, I took over. I searched Allison’s desk first. Nothing of importance, just documents and invoices. Digging through her draw, there was still nothing. We were running out of time.
Abandoning the desk, I went through her suitcase and bags. When I was crawling under her bed to try and find a weapon, Rowan hissed out. “Wait.” When I turned to him, he was still kneeling, but his foot was clamping down on a loose plank. The guy didn’t hesitate, pulling at the loose plank, which, to my confusion, revealed what looked to me like a trap door.
Rowan turned to me. “You’re kidding.”
I could only stare at the trap door revealing stone steps. He peered down, his voice echoing. “Allison has a fucking secret bunker?”
His lips curved into a surprisingly childish grin which took me off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s so cooooool!”
Lifting my head at the sound of loud squealing, I glimpsed a group of littles led by Eleanor stalking towards us. Eleanor had a hostage. Harry. And with the way she was sticking the blade of a scary looking knife to his throat, I figured she meant business.
Their height difference was almost comical. The eighteen year old guy had to hunch over so the little girl could successfully keep him prisoner. Behind them in the trees, I could see something illuminating the dark, an electric blue light bathing their faces.
So, that was there the power was going.
But what the fuck were these eight-year-old’s doing?
“Josie!” Rowan hissed from down below. He had already climbed down.
I joined him, struggling down the stone steps, before replacing the loose plank. If these kids were as smart as I thought, it wouldn’t take them long to realize the loose plank—also a trap door. Allison’s bunker was more of a control room. There were multiple screens lit up, a chair in front of a working MacBook. The phone-line was cut. But that didn’t make sense.
The kids were unaware of the bunker, so who cut the phone lines? Rowan was on the laptop, struggling to get through the password protection, so I turned my attention to piles of cardboard boxes.
When I opened them, I found myself staring at animal crackers.
There were hundreds of them, packed on top of each other. Looking further, digging through the boxes, I found a piece of old crumpled paper which looked ancient.
REGARDING PROJECT SPEARHEAD SUBJECTS:
PLEASE DO NOT INGEST UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. IF MULTIPLE SUBJECTS INGEST, PLEASE USE SELF DESTRUCT.
ONLY USE IN CASES SUCH AS IMMINENT DESTRUCTION TO THE PLANET/THREAT OF NUCLEAR WAR.
(PLEASE CONTACT FAMILIES IN ADVANCE. MAKE SURE TO INGEST WITH WATER TO AVOID NEUROLOGICAL SYMPTOMS SUCH AS PSYCHOSIS, EXTREME VIOLENCE. PLEASE APPROACH SUBJECTS WITH CAUTION.
Something ice cold slithered down my spine.
Abandoning the boxes, I searched through a cabinet filled with files which were crumbling apart from age. I picked one at random and flicked through it.
Eleanor Summer’s.
Sex: Female.
DOB: 08/05/1977.
Initially, I thought I was reading the dates wrong. But then, with my heart in my throat, I was grasping for other files.
Eli Evermore.
Sex: Male.
'DOB: 08/03/1979.
“Rowan.” I managed to get out through a breath.
“Mm?”
“They’re not children.”
The boy rubbed his eyes, frowning. His eyes were half lidded, almost confused. “Huh?”
“Eleanor.” I whispered. “Is forty five years old.”
He nodded slowly, turning back to the laptop. “How do you spell… documents? I’m looking for digital versions but I can’t find any.”
“You don’t know how to spell documents?”
“It’s been a hard day.” The boy whined, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry.
Whatever I was going to say was choked in the back of my throat, when a loud bang sounded from above, the sounds of childish giggling coming through the floorboards. But the laughter didn’t sound like little kids. No, it sounded like teenager’s who were acting like little kids. I stared at the boxes of animal crackers, and then at the file confirming Eleanor’s real age.
My own words shuddered through me, and I remembered finding Teddy’s dismembered carcass in Cassie’s cabin. When I had caught her gaze, the little girl didn’t look scared, and somehow, her fingers wrapped around the scalpel looked just right.
Like the little bitch knew exactly what she was doing.
“Helloooo?” Harry’s voice was a hysterical giggle. “Olly, Olly, Oxen freeee!”
“Are you in heeeeeeere?” Carmel joined in. I could hear their footsteps above, dancing across the room.
Clamping my hand over my mouth, I dragged my knees to my chest and prayed they weren’t smart enough to figure out we were right underneath them.
Knowing the truth about them, though? I wasn’t counting on it.
….
That was an hour ago.
We’re still stuck down here, and I can get a connection here—thank god. For some reason, Alison has blocked all social media. We need help. We’re at Camp Redwood, and these kids ARE NOT KIDS.
Whatever Project Spearhead is was designed to keep them here.
The phone-line is cut so we can’t get help from whoever was helping Allison. I am counting on you guys.
Get us out of here!

Please, looking for some advice from current project/program managers working in tech, better if in the Bay Area. I am in a very tough situation, and would highly appreciate all your input. I want to break into tech and land a role as a project manager in Silicon Valley. I am aware there is a lot of competitiveness and this is a long shot, but I am willing to try since the outcome in the future would be worth it. I am quite concerned because the US hiring companies do not care about studies outside the US. I have an undergrad in Hospitality Business Management from Europe. As an immigrant, you must first study something in the US to get hired unless you are transferred from an international company to the country, so I decided to go for a master's in Silicon Valley, California. Current situation: I do not have a green card or work authorization in the US, planning to come with an F-1 and study a Master of Science in Project Management at Northeastern University, do a co-op, and then try to get a job in PM during my OPT period (legal work authorization for a couple of years after graduation). During recent conversations with my friends in the tech industry, they made a point and said that I want to be a PM in tech without having an actual background in tech as engineering or CS, which is true. This is very frustrating and stressful since I am going to sacrifice my inheritance and get a loan to come here for 2 years and do the master's (120-130k → tuition + living expenses in Silicon Valley for 2 full years). So please, I am desperate here and looking for advice from current project/program managers working in tech that can provide some valuable info or suggestions for my situation. What additional skills should I add to my coursework to improve my chances on this one? Maybe a boot camp or online courses related to tech skills apart from my master's? What would you say are the most important skills in the role of a tech company? What do they value most or look for in candidates? What additional courses/technical skills can upgrade my chances? (online and extra things to do on the side beside the master's in Project Management). Some people suggested doing a master's in CS, but I do not have any background in tech and it would be from scratch. I am looking to focus on management, that is one of the reasons I applied for my master's. I do not want to do that, but focus on the master's that I was already accepted and have a visa appointment at the embassy soon... Also, I can not get experience until the co-op or OPT period, so working for someone to get experience is impossible until then, plus I just have 60 days to get hired in OPT period before being deported, so it's quite serious to get as prepared and competitive as I can. All the answers are appreciated, truly. I want to do whatever it takes to land a job here and work my ass off. If I decided to pursue this path and career change is due to personal circumstances and looking for a better life, so please be kind. Thanks a lot!

(Edited to remove identifying information)
2/5 Stars
I’ve been a customer at the xxxx location for a long time and the pharmacy staff has always been very nice and helpful. I thought it was too good good to be true, kind and helpful, and it was. Our daughter has Autism and needs medication to help her fall asleep at night. I called the pharmacy at 8:38 p.m. to get a refill on her medication. We were just getting back into town when I realized that I left my daughters meds at her grand moms house 2 hours away. I explained my situation to the pharmacist and asked her if she could fill the prescription tonight because my daughter took it for sleep, but nope. She said very sarcastically, “no, not tonight, but I will have it ready in the morning”. Granted, it was 20 minutes till closing, but there were extenuating circumstances. It’s now 20 after 11 and our precious daughter cannot relax and therefore cannot sleep. We’re settling in for a sleepless night. We also had to cancel an OOT appointment planned for tomorrow all because the pharmacist would not go the extra mile for loyal customers, not to mention for a sweet child. I’m very disappointed. As I said the pharmacist at the xxxx location have always been super nice and helpful. I hope this one bad apple doesn’t spoil the barrel.

I was very hesitant when I approached the idea of selling my vehicle all online. However, Vroom was my best offer and I decided to give it a shot. With my new vehicle due to arrive at the dealership in two weeks, I'll have plenty of time to go through the process. I'd decided to reach out to the dealership (after not hearing from them for weeks) and found out that my car would be arriving in 5 days, and it was a Friday. I called Vroom customer support and they were able to answer all my questions about the process and filled me in on the timeline of each step. And I filled them in on my predicament of the early arriving car and my 72 hour timeline once that car arrives to the dealership. I began the selling process and all of my paperwork was submitted and contracts were signed within 24 hours. Awesome. Things were moving along well. I was told that I would be getting a call from a certain number that was visible on screen and to be on the look out as they would be calling to schedule pick up of my vehicle. As it was late afternoon on a Saturday, I did not expect a call until Monday. About 48 hours later, I received a call on that Monday and the earliest pick up would be late afternoon of the next day, Tuesday. I let her know of my situation and asked if there was any way for me to get my vehicle picked up sooner as I was under a time crunch from the dealership. She was super helpful and we actually arranged for me to get my car picked up that day. 2 hours later and I was having my car inspected and everything went so smoothly. Pictures were taken of the vehicle and I signed off on it at the end and away my Telluride went. That evening I received a conojter generated text from the dealership that i would be purchasing my new vehicle from. "Hey its blank from blank, i have some good news, give me a call", it was 6pm amd they closed in an hour. This was their attempt to start the 72 hour clock. I waited 24 hours from the time of pick up of my vehicle and called customer support to verify that my vehicle was showing as delivered on their end because even though I received a receipt for delivery of my vehicle, the website showed it was waiting to be picked up. Everything was good and the customer service rep was nice enough to expedite my case to make sure that I would have my money from the sale of the vehicle by noon on that Friday (the deadline for me picking up my vehicle from the dealership) which was now just under 72 hours away.
Sidebar, the dealership really wasn't going to wait until Friday. They were saying that after Thursday evening, it was fair game. Eventually a manager called me to discuss the 72 hour timeline after the salesman told her what was going on. She called, to let me know that they have this policy in place and they would do their "best" to hold it until I could get there on Friday. I expressed that it was bad business to just ghost a customer for 2 weeks and then I have to do the reaching out to get an ETA for my vehicle I put a deposit on. She agreed to my notion and we agreed to noon on Friday.
Friday came and I after a few days of anxiety I checked my bank account and, nothing. That's okay, it was 7am and my bank was pretty notorious for keeping things in a "pending" state for 24 hours unless you called. So I called the bank to inquire about any possible pending transactions, there were none. That's alright. I planned for this. I was just going to call the dealership and be honest about what was going on and that I would not be making that 72 hour timeline. But.. maybe I would wait until 11am to tell them I wouldn't be making my noon appointment. 11am, no money in my account. Time to call the dealership. Surprisingly enough, the dealership was very helpful and said I could do all the other paper to purchase the vehicle, they would just not be able to let the vehicle leave the premises until I was able to put the down payment on the vehicle (the direct deposit I was waiting on from Vroom). Awesome! All information acquired I decided to pack up the kids and we would head to the dealership to sign off on the paperwork. For whatever reason I decided to check my bank account at 11:40 am. And the wire transfer had cleared and the money was in my account. I could not have been happier! Vroom customer support was always helpful and kind and they went out of their way to expedite my case and make sure I could get my vehicle, even though the time crunch was put on them and myself by an uncommunicative dealership. I was able to get my cashiers check and get the new vehicle picked up that day.
TLDR; Dealership didn't communicate. Vroom was helpful and expedited my case at every turn to meet deadlines imposed by other dealership They made sure I got my money by noon on Friday and I got my new car

My husband and I have been married for 10 years. Never got pregnant and not without lack of trying. I have had incredibly irregular periods since I was a kid and all the signs and symptoms of PCOS since I was in my early twenties. I went to a fertility specialist in 2015 and he basically told me there’s nothing wrong with me except that I was “too fat”. I was devastated. I basically gave up and went through a pretty deep depression.
Finally, after some time and counseling, I decided to get back to work and start working towards having a baby. In November of 2022, I took two rounds of letrozole but wasn’t monitored properly (this was through my OBGYN). Fast forward to April of this year, I found a reproductive endocrinologist who was so helpful and knowledgeable and supportive. He immediately diagnosed me with PCOS, put me on metformin and started monitoring me. On may 22, I started taking 2.5 mg of letrozole for 5 days and at my appointment on Friday this week I learned that I had a 19mm follicle on the right and a 20mm follicle on the left. We did the Ovidrel trigger shot and now we’re doing timed intercourse.
I guess I just needed to tell this to people who understand. I’m so excited and hopeful and I just want to feel good vibes. I haven’t felt this hopeful in a while.
Maybe this can be a good vibes post for everyone!! This process is so difficult and we all need to feel positive once and a while. 🤍

Hello, I'd like to start with these things:

1. No emergency vets are in our area.
2. Normal vet office is closed (Sunday) and for holiday (Monday)
3. I will call my vet office for their advice Tuesday, but I wanted some help (and maybe reassurance?) from anyone here.

Kitten13 weeks oldMale - not neutered (appointment for it in July)Balinese/long-hair Siamese
He came home with us last Saturday. He had one de-worming before coming home and has all the general health shots already. We went for a regular check up Monday and all was fine. I told the vet he had strained to poop (he meowed a lot and struggled to poop) and they said to watch it but it could just be stress from the move.Tuesday night I had to clean a tiny poop stuck from his butt fluffs. When I grabbed it, the toilet paper was slightly bright red. I decided to watch the next poops to see if everything was fine as I've read stress can also cause some bleeding as well as that perhaps his straining from the previous poop caused a minor tear.
I haven't noticed any problems since, but today he hadn't pooped since yesterday night. He has been getting introduced to our resident cat a lot the past day or two, so perhaps increased stress from their interactions? He is slightly scared of her and getting used to her size.He went poop just now and it was slightly muddy/runny (for the first time, normally they have been a very healthy consistency I think?) and it had some blood traces in it. His pooper is slightly pink/irritated/maybe swollen looking. He cried when pooping and is also grooming it excessively. He is eating and drinking perfectly fine, he actually drinks a lot more than our other cat, maybe he is playing a little less today but it is hard to tell. He seems slightly less into playing.- He is still on the old food, he gets supplements of wet food.- He did have more wet food than normal today, maybe that is why it is runny?- He is getting 1/5th a cup to 4/5ths of old of a DIFFERENT kitten food to wean him off his other food but hes been getting that all week so I don't know why it would only cause blood occasionally (unless I'm not seeing it which is possible.)
Imgur images are of the poop - Poop Log The first little bit of blood I'd spotted from the toilet paper - May 24th at 6am One is his poop that looked better - May 24th at 9pm One is of his poop that looked okay (maybe runny) - May 25th at 6am Other image is his poop from just a hour ago where I can see blood - May 28th at 5pm
TLDR - newly moved in kitten has some blood in poop.
Any advice or words of comfort? I will be contacting my vet Tuesday morning but I am just worried for him.

Last summer I got a job as a cook, and towards the end of every shift I'd have to spend about 40 minutes scrubbing the flat top grill. I was given heat proof gloves that were too big for me, and a big pumice stone. I couldn't actually grab the stone while scrubbing, I just had to sort of put pressure down with my hands and move my arms back and forth. I was also too short, so I really had to stretch to get towards the back of the grill.
Doing this tired my hands out, but I didn't think much of it until I was doing my math homework after work one night, and my pen sort of just... fell out of my hand. And I couldn't pick it back up. I couldn't grip it. I couldn't write anymore.
I went to Urgent care the next day, and they were very nice and helpful, the PA there diagnosed me with carpal tunnel, and referred me to an Occupational Medicine doctor. My first appointment there went well. It was with a substitute doctor who was very helpful, she got me a note out of work for 2 weeks, and got me an appointment with a physical therapist. She backed the diagnosis of carpal tunnel syndrome. The physical therapist I saw ALSO diagnosed me with carpal tunnel syndrome. So I've got the same diagnosis from 3 medical professionals at this point.
My next appointment at the Occupational Medicine is with their regular doctor (not the substitute I saw previously) and all of a sudden I DON'T have carpal tunnel. He brings up my weight, how I'm a woman, and is going off about everything the substitute doctor did wrong. I got in touch with worker's comp, and they said I could change my Attending Physician to my regular doctor. I do, but after making an appointment there, I get a call from my doctors office telling me I can't do that. I now don't have a doctor to regularly see about this.
Later I'm given cortisone shots by an Orthopedic doctor, which help for a while. I get a couple nerve tests which I'm told look completely normal, and I'm all good to be on my way. Except I'm not.
I'm in pain. I can't do anything involving my hands for more than 5 minutes without my hands burning for weeks. I've had to give up all my hobbies. I quit my job and put school on hold because I can't... do things. There are days when I need my husband to brush my teeth. My hands gave out while I was driving and I couldn't grip the wheel. I had to just press my hands as hard as I could against the wheel and steer like that. But these doctors are telling me I'm fine and nothing's wrong with my hands.
I don't know what to do. It's been 9 months of my life being on hold. I'm desperate for surgery. I literally don't care if I have to go thousands in debt for it. I just want my life back. What can I do?

Please, looking for some advice from current project/program managers working in tech, better if in the Bay Area. I am in a very tough situation, and would highly appreciate all your input.
I want to break into tech and land a role as a project manager in Silicon Valley. I am aware there is a lot of competitiveness and this is a long shot, but I am willing to try since the outcome in the future would be worth it. I am quite concerned because the US hiring companies do not care about studies outside the US. I have an undergrad in Hospitality Business Management from Europe. As an immigrant, you must first study something in the US to get hired unless you are transferred from an international company to the country, so I decided to go for a master's in Silicon Valley, California.
Current situation: I do not have a green card or work authorization in the US, planning to come with an F-1 and study a Master of Science in Project Management at Northeastern University, do a co-op, and then try to get a job in PM during my OPT period (legal work authorization for a couple of years after graduation).
During recent conversations with my friends in the tech industry, they made a point and said that I want to be a PM in tech without having an actual background in tech as engineering or CS, which is true. This is very frustrating and stressful since I am going to sacrifice my inheritance and get a loan to come here for 2 years and do the master's (120-130k → tuition + living expenses in Silicon Valley for 2 full years). So please, I am desperate here and looking for advice from current project/program managers working in tech that can provide some valuable info or suggestions for my situation.
What additional skills should I add to my coursework to improve my chances on this one?
Maybe a boot camp or online courses related to tech skills apart from my master's?What would you say are the most important skills in the role of a tech company?
What do they value most or look for in candidates?
What additional courses/technical skills can upgrade my chances? (online and extra things to do on the side beside the master's in Project Management).
Some people suggested doing a master's in CS, but I do not have any background in tech and it would be from scratch. I am looking to focus on management, that is one of the reasons I applied for my master's. I do not want to do that, but focus on the master's that I was already accepted and have a visa appointment at the embassy soon... Also, I can not get experience until the co-op or OPT period, so working for someone to get experience is impossible until then, plus I just have 60 days to get hired in OPT period before being deported, so it's quite serious to get as prepared and competitive as I can.
All the answers are appreciated, truly. I want to do whatever it takes to land a job here and work my ass off. If I decided to pursue this path and career change is due to personal circumstances and looking for a better life, so please be kind. Thanks a lot!

I’m not eligible for the funded ones!
I have tagged this as ‘Covid’ because I didn’t know what else to use

Please, looking for some advice from current project/program managers working in tech, better if in the Bay Area. I am in a very tough situation, and would highly appreciate all your input. I want to break into tech and land a role as a project manager in Silicon Valley. I am aware there is a lot of competitiveness and this is a long shot, but I am willing to try since the outcome in the future would be worth it. I am quite concerned because the US hiring companies do not care about studies outside the US. I have an undergrad in Hospitality Business Management from Europe. As an immigrant, you must first study something in the US to get hired unless you are transferred from an international company to the country, so I decided to go for a master's in Silicon Valley, California. Current situation: I do not have a green card or work authorization in the US, planning to come with an F-1 and study a Master of Science in Project Management at Northeastern University, do a co-op, and then try to get a job in PM during my OPT period (legal work authorization for a couple of years after graduation). During recent conversations with my friends in the tech industry, they made a point and said that I want to be a PM in tech without having an actual background in tech as engineering or CS, which is true. This is very frustrating and stressful since I am going to sacrifice my inheritance and get a loan to come here for 2 years and do the master's (120-130k → tuition + living expenses in Silicon Valley for 2 full years). So please, I am desperate here and looking for advice from current project/program managers working in tech that can provide some valuable info or suggestions for my situation. What additional skills should I add to my coursework to improve my chances on this one? Maybe a boot camp or online courses related to tech skills apart from my master's? What would you say are the most important skills in the role of a tech company? What do they value most or look for in candidates? What additional courses/technical skills can upgrade my chances? (online and extra things to do on the side besides the master in Project Management). Some people suggested doing a master's in CS, but I do not have any background in tech and it would be from scratch. I am looking to focus on management, that is one of the reasons I applied for my master's. I do not want to do that, but focus on the master's that I was already accepted and have a visa appointment at the embassy soon... Also, I can not get experience until the co-op or OPT period, so working for someone to get experience is impossible until then, plus I just have 60 days to get hired in OPT period before being deported, so it's quite serious to get as prepared and competitive as I can. All the answers are appreciated, truly. I want to do whatever it takes to land a job here and work my ass off. if I decided to pursue this path and career change is due to personal circumstances and looking for a better life, so please be kind. Thanks a lot!

I’m not sure where I can talk about this throughly once again, I have posted about it before but now I really feel like if I wrote about it and get others insight it would help me out.
I’m 26 female and I haven’t gotten the HPV vaccine. It came out when I was around 11 I think, so my mom refused it back then. Fast forward of my dad losing his job, family not having health insurance to go to the doctor followed by me going off to college and then Covid closing everything, I’m now on Medicaid and I guess I have the opportunity to get the vaccine or so until I turn 27 just to have to be covered by Medicaid.
I’m not sexually active and never have been due to personal reasons. As I mentioned in a previous post my obgyn and my now nurse practitioner that I just saw, highly encouraged me to get it or looked into it more. I felt like my nurse practitioner was REALLY trying to talk me into it. Heck I almost did the vaccine at her office but then chicken out at the last second saying that I need to think about doing so more.
I’m torn because growing up, my mother would talk about how the vaccine has lawsuits, of people getting autoimmune diseases from it, and even now how it does. My mom isn’t anti-vaxx, heck this is the only vaccine that I think I don’t have, but she has this belief and thinks that it’s stupid for me to get since I’m not sexually active or even have a boyfriend. I think now that I’m older she just keeps telling me that it’s up for me to decide. I want to protect myself, in case that day magically come as I don’t have control on what my partner has done or if they would knowingly have it, or heck if I get it from sexual assault if that happens to me (I’ve read stories on how others got hpv from sexual assault and sadly been commented on in the past that i’ll probably be sexually assaulted)
I’m also scared on how I would react to the vaccine as since I’ve had Covid a year ago I haven’t been reacting to other vaccines that well. I had a tdap booster when I went to my last appointment and well, I had a stomachache and diarrhea for a day or so and my mom called me a whimp for having side effects to a shot. I feel like Covid really effected my immune system even a year later, and i’m scared for the future on that.
My nurse practitioner was also really encouraged it since again i’m 26 and supposedly Medicaid won’t cover all of the shots once I turn 27. So I guess I’m short on time as I would be able to get two shots at least, before I turn 27 depending on if I get an appointment in the next two months.
I want to get it due to the comments from my doctors, my friends who have gotten the vaccine now it’s their 20s, and even stuff like the news encouraging others to get it, but again I have the fear of how will I react to it and the unknown of how it’ll effect me in any way.
I guess I want some others thoughts or even wondering am I the only one who thinks this so much. Like it’s my health and I should worry about it I guess but I think about it too much

Please, looking for some advice from current project/program managers working in tech, better if in the Bay Area. I am in a very tough situation, and would highly appreciate all your input.
I want to break into tech and land a role as a project manager in Silicon Valley. I am aware there is a lot of competitiveness and this is a long shot, but I am willing to try since the outcome in the future would be worth it. I am quite concerned because the US hiring companies do not care about studies outside the US. I have an undergrad in Hospitality Business Management from Europe. As an immigrant, you must first study something in the US to get hired unless you are transferred from an international company to the country, so I decided to go for a master's in Silicon Valley, California.
Current situation: I do not have a green card or work authorization in the US, planning to come with an F-1 and study a Master of Science in Project Management at Northeastern University, do a co-op, and then try to get a job in PM during my OPT period (legal work authorization for a couple of years after graduation).
During recent conversations with my friends in the tech industry, they made a point and said that I want to be a PM in tech without having an actual background in tech as engineering or CS, which is true. This is very frustrating and stressful since I am going to sacrifice my inheritance and get a loan to come here for 2 years and do the master's (120-130k → tuition + living expenses in Silicon Valley for 2 full years). So please, I am desperate here and looking for advice from current project/program managers working in tech that can provide some valuable info or suggestions for my situation.
What additional skills should I add to my coursework to improve my chances on this one?
Maybe a boot camp or online courses related to tech skills apart from my master's?
What would you say are the most important skills in the role of a tech company?
What do they value most or look for in candidates?
What additional courses/technical skills can upgrade my chances? (online and extra things to do on the side besides the master in Project Management).
Some people suggested doing a master's in CS, but I do not have any background in tech and it would be from scratch. I am looking to focus on management, that is one of the reasons I applied for my master's. I do not want to do that, but focus on the master's that I was already accepted and have a visa appointment at the embassy soon... Also, I can not get experience until the co-op or OPT period, so working for someone to get experience is impossible until then, plus I just have 60 days to get hired in OPT period before being deported, so it's quite serious to get as prepared and competitive as I can.
All the answers are appreciated, truly. I want to do whatever it takes to land a job here and work my ass off. if I decided to pursue this path and career change is due to personal circumstances and looking for a better life, so please be kind. Thanks a lot!

Please, looking for some advice from current project/program managers working in tech, better if in the Bay Area. I am in a very tough situation, and would highly appreciate all your input.
I want to break into tech and land a role as a project manager in Silicon Valley. I am aware there is a lot of competitiveness and this is a long shot, but I am willing to try since the outcome in the future would be worth it. I am quite concerned because the US hiring companies do not care about studies outside the US. I have an undergrad in Hospitality Business Management from Europe. As an immigrant, you must first study something in the US to get hired unless you are transferred from an international company to the country, so I decided to go for a master's in Silicon Valley, California.
Current situation: I do not have a green card or work authorization in the US, planning to come with an F-1 and study a Master of Science in Project Management at Northeastern University, do a co-op, and then try to get a job in PM during my OPT period (legal work authorization for a couple of years after graduation).
During recent conversations with my friends in the tech industry, they made a point and said that I want to be a PM in tech without having an actual background in tech as engineering or CS, which is true. This is very frustrating and stressful since I am going to sacrifice my inheritance and get a loan to come here for 2 years and do the master's (120-130k → tuition + living expenses in Silicon Valley for 2 full years). So please, I am desperate here and looking for advice from current project/program managers working in tech that can provide some valuable info or suggestions for my situation.
What additional skills should I add to my coursework to improve my chances on this one?
Maybe a boot camp or online courses related to tech skills apart from my master's?
What would you say are the most important skills in the role of a tech company?
What do they value most or look for in candidates?
What additional courses/technical skills can upgrade my chances? (online and extra things to do on the side besides the master in Project Management).
Some people suggested doing a master's in CS, but I do not have any background in tech and it would be from scratch. I am looking to focus on management, that is one of the reasons I applied for my master's. I do not want to do that, but focus on the master's that I was already accepted and have a visa appointment at the embassy soon... Also, I can not get experience until the co-op or OPT period, so working for someone to get experience is impossible until then, plus I just have 60 days to get hired in OPT period before being deported, so it's quite serious to get as prepared and competitive as I can.
All the answers are appreciated, truly. I want to do whatever it takes to land a job here and work my ass off. if I decided to pursue this path and career change is due to personal circumstances and looking for a better life, so please be kind. Thanks a lot!

I spent almost a year floating between 75% and 90% recovered. Was exercising again, got my life back in order. Managed to get back on track with work. Was struggling with some residual worsening of my ADHD which went from manageable before covid to relentless after. but found out I'm not healthy enough for ADHD medication since after 2 EKGs my QTc remains in the 450-470 range. and ADHD medication would increase my risk of sudden cardiac death by an unacceptable amount. about a week after my last doctor's appointment I felt a little odd,then started having heart palpitations again. sore muscles, in general just mild flu like symptoms. then started with the "mantle of sunburn" sensation and realized what I was in for. but it actually started getting better faster than previous times. But now I'm at maximum brainfog,dizzy, coordination is a mess, having trouble with computer screens again..So I guess we find out how long it's going to last this time. Needless to say I'm heavily discouraged, exhausted and frustrated. I've basically lived the life of a hermit to avoid getting it again but during a necessary doctor's visit I was reinfected. To make the feeling of helplessness and anger at the world worse I'm almost certain I know who it was. The chin-masker in the clinic lobby, coughing his lungs out. telling everyone "Don't smoke cigarettes" and that it was "A smoker's cough"
​
I feel powerless and demoralized.... I wish there was more I could do to get better faster. I'm not in the financial situation for this to be happening again now. I depend on commissions and freelancing and working long hours infront of a computer. Guess I will do my best to survive. again

(15F) Hi, I applied to publix on may 15 even though its been nearly 14 days and that is the maximum wait time. Should I go into person to ask for a appointment or should I just assume I was not hired

I got prescribed an SSRI a 4 days ago and the next day, started coming down with covid-like symptoms (before I even made it to the pharmacy to pick up my script) I don’t handle sickness well, it usually effects my mood. On top of that, it’s always more difficult to manage my diabetes when I’m sick, which makes it even harder to function.
I was diagnosed with BD2 in the past and my treatment team currently suspects I’m not bipolar.
I don’t want to put myself into a position in which I’m trying to guess if it’s the SSRI or sickness causing issues with mood, cognition, level of functioning ETC
I’m also worried I’ll end up getting a steroid shot if this sickness worsens, and I really don’t want to mix that with the SSRI until I atleast know how I respond or feel more confident in ruling out BD.
I asked for the SSRI in hopes it can help me be more productive with lifestyle changes, I’m not suicidal.

Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/ReddXReads/comments/13lfqkw/vulturebeard_the_legbeard_that_ruined_roomies_fo
Hi everyone, bunny here. I’m having Ezekial post this for me because while I lurk on reddit, I’m on too many online communities and burn out quickly on all of them. I’m just here to tell this incredibly long tale. Pull up a chair, grab a snack, get comfy. This is a long ride.
The Cast List
Bunny (author): 33, female, a year or so out of a divorce that turned toxic and abusive and ultimately helped me realize I was gay. Recovering lifelong doormat slowly building a spine. Neuro spicy gym rat with major depressive disorder, general anxiety disorder, and most recently diagnosed with ADHD. Unfortunately very familiar with surviving trauma.
Z (poster): My partner. 31, nonbinary (they/them), also neuro spicy with depression, anxiety, OCD, BPD, autism, and also familiar with lifelong trauma.
One Liner Beard (OLB): 33, male, neuro spicy with ADHD and depression. He also suspects autism but isn’t pursuing a diagnosis. His nickname here comes from the fact that in messenger, he usually has one-word replies like “oof” or “mmm” as an acknowledgement he had seen the message but has nothing further to contribute.
VultureBeard (Vulture): 30, female, neuro spicy and disabled with multiple conditions. She has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, POTs (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), autism, depression, anxiety, chronic migraines, but also possibly a list of things that may or may not be real – that will all be explained. The star of this unfortunate circus. Her name will be explained in this part.
Kid: 3. Female. OLB and Vulture’s child. Likely neuro spicy like we all are, but she’s also only 3 years old. Slightly speech delayed and not potty trained yet.
Minor mentions:
Shit ass ex-husband (SA): name is self-explanatory. 32, male. Divorce was amicable to keep the peace. I immediately went no contact with him after.
J2: Friend of OLBs.
You ready? Deep breath. Now let’s dive into this mess.
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Chapter Two: VultureBeard, or the Walking Diagnosis
With the backstory of how we wound up with a neckbeard, a legbeard, and their kid out of the way, I’ll start on VultureBeard properly now.
J2 was the one who introduced her to OLB. He ran into her at a local convention, and they talked and spent the day together. He ended up sleeping over at her house, on her couch, since she lived a few minutes away from the convention center, and he introduced her to his D&D group that OLB was a DM for. He said that at first, he wanted to smash just based on looks (before she stopped caring for herself, before the pregnancy), until she opened her mouth.
Oh boy.
I met her on Halloween 2018 or 2019 (trauma made my memory absolute garbage, ain’t it fun?), when OLB wanted to run a one-shot Curse of Strahd campaign for our D&D group. J2’s group was called Party A, we were Party B. Both of our campaigns existed in the same universe that OLB created. It was a fun one shot. I liked her. We integrated her into our D&D campaign as a side character who joined our party.
With her autism, she talks a lot, and can have a conversation with anyone, but she does naturally miss a lot of social cues. She says it’s okay to be direct with her and say things like, “I can’t talk right now, I’m busy.” But in the wild, she just enjoys people. That in itself isn’t a bad thing.
When we met, she was a Mormon with long brown hair, glasses, and modest clothes with long ankle-length jean skirts. I don’t know if that was a lifelong practice or just the people she had associated with. She didn’t curse at all, and still substitutes “fudge” for my favorite and most often-used curse word. Over time, she dropped religion, but she only curses in text, and very rarely at that, like when she’s pushed to her mental limit. She still dresses in a lot of the modest clothes from before, but it’s mostly because she doesn’t go clothes shopping a lot. I have passed down some clothes I have shrunk out of to her.
Her fashion sense is a bit of Walmart-meets-Goodwill. The tired mom “this is clean, so I’ll wear it” kind of aesthetic. She’s big on thrifting, but so am I. Most of my wardrobe is thrifted or passed on from a few gym friends these days, so it’s not like I’m poking fun at secondhand clothes. It’s just that there’s a lack of style or effort on her part, like she just puts clothes on and sometimes remembers to brush her hair out. I think there’s a part of her that doesn’t recognize she’s plus sized after pregnancy because she once bought clothes that are size medium, and they didn’t fit. She fit my old 2X leggings. I traded her leggings once, my bigger size for her smaller size.
She and OLB don’t fold laundry or put it away, so she will have laundry stuffed in their hamper that they keep in our shoe closet next to the laundry room, or boxes on her desk, or on her desk chair. They kind of live out of that clothes pile. If she needs to dress in something nice, it likely is wrinkly because it was in an unfolded pile.
The first run-in with realizing that something was a little “off” with her was when she tried cooking for us. We had other friends over to play D&D and Magic with us, and she wanted to cook some kind of chicken and noodle dish. With her POTs (post orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), she’s usually sodium deficient so she adds way too much salt to whatever she’s eating. Not being used to cooking for others, she served us completely inedible chicken that was too salty.
One of my former friends was there for that debacle. What she also noticed was that Kid seemed to be behind some childhood markers. At 2, Kid was still using a bottle and didn’t seem to talk much. She was worried that Kid would keep falling behind. It was a red flag that got tucked away. At the time, I was still thinking of Vulture as a burned-out first-time neuro spicy mom. That’s a lot for a disabled woman to handle. As a disabled person myself, I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. I gave her too much benefit of the doubt for way too long.
Vulture as a person focuses very much on herself. Because of the body aches and pains that come with both Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and POTs, yes, I understand that her body regularly fights itself. But why is it that every time her body expressed pain, she had to do a loud, “AH, OW” or other pain noises as loud as she could? Or she will complain about whatever is giving her trouble. Some days she will be using her computer quietly, then when I come out of my bedroom, she starts to complain about her daily aches and pains. This happens pretty much every day, for different reasons. Her sneezes are likewise as loud, to where I can hear her across the house, through a closed door and over the show Z and I are watching.
Most awkward is Vulture’s bathroom habits. In Apartment #2, I guess Vulture got used to using the bathroom with the door cracked because they lived in a house without roommates, and she needed to keep an ear on Kid. Even now in a shared space, she keeps the door cracked, sometimes with the light off so I don’t think anyone is in the bathroom because it’s more migraine friendly.
Until I hear the grunting.
THE GRUNTING.
THE POOP GRUNTING.
I have heard it through my closed bedroom door, because her bathroom is right next to my bedroom. Usually, it’s when my bedroom is quieter, like when Z and I are off to sleep. But I hear her grunting as she’s using the bathroom, either because the door is open, or she is just that loud. I’m terrified to know which one it is.
Her hygiene is questionable at best. I know personally that Depression™ makes hygiene and self-care extremely difficult. I myself do the best I can, especially while being constantly sweaty at the gym and a Big Sad (depression) fighter. So, I get mental illness and hygiene. With Vulture and her long hair, she would leave it in a bun for days until it matted. She asked for my help with detangling it and it took me around two hours to safely work the mats and tangles out. When she cut it in a homemade attempt to do the popular wolf cut on Tik Tok, it was much more manageable. When it’s shorter, it has tight curls. She constantly has a natural body odor smell to her. I think with her sensitive skin, she has to wear a specific unscented deodorant, but I don’t think she applies it unless she’s leaving the house. The sink in her and OLB’s bathroom is used as mostly a storage space with things piled on top of it, so I don’t think it’s used for much. The bathtub needs a deep scrubbing, and she gives Kid a bath more than she herself showers.
Having heard the poop grunting, I’m afraid to look at their toilet.
In general, Vulture isn’t active, but to say that she’s sedentary is a vast understatement. The average sedentary person looks like an Olympic athlete next to her. She occupies two spots in the house: Her bed, or the couch in the living room. For most of the day. She will just have her laptop either on the table next to her or in her lap, and that’s where she spends most of the day, gaming.
With me being a gym rat, I am incredibly proud of how I went from a couch potato to a weightlifter. When I think about what would happen if I suddenly dropped to her levels of activity, I know my body would fall apart. I often wonder if her lying in bed or on the couch contributes to more of her body pains because her muscles are deteriorating from disuse. I mean what do I know, I’m not a doctor. That body pain cycles to her being even more inactive because she hurts. It’s a big cycle of negativity.
When the weather changes drastically, she will be hit with migraines or allergy attacks, to where she has to lay down all day as well. She takes OTC pain medicine frequently, as well as allergy meds. One of her desk cabinets is a well-stocked mini pharmacy of OTC medication and some prescription medication she has collected over time that expired over a year ago. When I’m hit with a rare migraine, I know she will have something in stock for it.
Her doctor says she needs to eat more frequently because she’s always shaky. She will hold up her hand to show me how much it’s shaking, and it always looks as though she’s making it shake from the wrist, instead of it being an actual hand movement. She always tells me, “Look at this,” and holds up her shaking hand, like she’s trying to show me how bad she’s doing, but it’s for different reasons every time. She didn’t eat, she’s too tired, she has a migraine, she has sinus pain – everything gives her shaky hands, which I joked about once.
If she has a new symptom, she goes to Doctor Google to look up what’s wrong with her, and then talk in our house chat on discord that she thinks she might have “so and so” wrong with her because the symptoms match. Or she will post screenshots of whatever her symptoms are. As far as I know in the time living with her, she’s never had close medical calls or anything that needed further treatment, except for a heart study where she wore a device to monitor her heart rate. Doctor Google gave her all sorts of things she could have, though.
Within the time I started writing this saga, I had this encounter with her in the house group chat on discord that she, OLB, and I are in, about how she thinks she’s allergic to mosquito bites because the bites swelled up and got inflamed:
Vulture: Just figured out something I’m most likely allergic to: mosquito’s saliva reaction is increased inflammation around the bite site and the condition is skeeter syndrome.
Me: You should get that confirmed by a doctor. It’s mosquito season.
(it sounds like she copy/pasted that bit about mosquito’s saliva from Google)
Mind you, my former in-laws thought I was allergic to mosquito bites because the same thing happened to me. My mosquito bites swelled up beyond what they should look like, and mosquitos have a good nose at finding me in particular compared to other people. I tried to empathize with her, even though it just seemed like she wanted to identify with a syndrome she found on the internet.
She said that she had the same symptoms her friend’s dad had for GERD because her acid reflux was acting up. The GERD saga is a fun one as well, which I’ll fully share later.
Funny enough, if I also have something similar to what her current issue is, she doesn’t play Oppression Olympics and say hers is worse. I’ve been dealing with vertigo on and off for the past month and I don’t have the ability to see a doctor for it at the moment. So, when she says that she’s dizzy or the room is spinning, I express empathy or at least a little “oh, same here,” because I have to carefully move my body in ways that don’t make the room spin. It might be her autism, it might be because she doesn’t care, but she never expresses empathy my way. She just moves on.
I’ve told her multiple times she needs to see a doctor to check for each new symptom she has, but somehow there’s an excuse. The latest I’ve heard is, “I will once my phone is turned back on. It hasn’t been paid in a while.” Valid yes, but then please get off Google. Because she’s on government assistance and doesn’t have a car and doesn’t know how to drive, she’s ferried to her appointments by a medical bus that stops at the house. They do need to be able to call her. Just please get off Google in the meantime! I’ve even told her that Doctor Google and WebMD will say everything is cancer or fatal and it’s not good for you, and she just kind of brushed it off.
One of my friends calls her the Professional Victim. Z is convinced she has Factitious Disorder (formerly called Munchausen’s). She loves to hide behind her illnesses as to why she can’t get out of bed or can’t do chores. If you were to listen to her every day, you’d think she was falling apart at the seams because it was always something. Migraine, body pain, allergies, sinus problems or sinus infections, stomach problems, dizziness, shakiness. Repeat. Forever.
She will ask me if her forehead feels hot, and when I can’t tell, she checks with a thermometer. She says, “My natural body temperature is low so 99 degrees is a fever to me.”
This is also where I gave her a lot of benefit of the doubt at the beginning, because EDS and POTs will affect the entire body in different ways. One of my friends, in her casual dark humor, will have conversations with me about how she’s just not going to be able to walk properly that day, because her ankle joint slid out of place, but she still finished her work shift. I talk to my friend regularly about her struggles with her body, but somehow it doesn’t have the same self-pity that Vulture’s does. Every disability presents differently between people. As rare as EDS and POTs is, it’s pretty common in online communities because it’s where people tend to flock to. In my time in varying disabled online communities, I’ve never seen someone who complains or fishes for attention as much as Vulture does.
If she’s having a relatively good day, she will either be gaming, or maybe she will get to one of the chores that OLB tries to get her to do during the day, like doing the dishes or cleaning Kid’s room. When OLB had prescription Adderall (before the shortage made him switch to a different ADHD med), she took one of his pills and was zooming around actually being productive. She has symptoms of ADHD but doesn’t have a formal diagnosis, so OLB thought it might help her. It seemed to.
If she has a bad day, which is most of her days, she stays rooted on the couch or moves between her couch and her bed, moving her laptop with her. She spends all day building in Minecraft, completing her Pokedex, or playing other games.
Sometimes when I come out of my room to cook, she says something along the lines of, “I planned on cleaning today,” followed by vague hand gestures of how she’s feeling. I never asked her about her daily plans, but she needed to tell me. Is it self-awareness or guilt?
If she’s doing a load of dishes, she will loudly proclaim that she’s dizzy and shaky and in pain and have to go sit down after 10 minutes of that. I don’t know if she actually has the body strength to stay upright for longer than ten minutes at a time, and I don’t know if that’s her actual chronic illnesses, or the fact that she doesn’t do anything at all.
I’ve given her the same advice I use myself for low spoon (low energy) days when I need to get things done. I’ve told her it’s okay to take ten-minute breaks and then get started again. Or an hour break, if her body is giving her trouble. I’ve told her it’s okay to clean the house while sitting on the ground or in a chair, if that’s easier on her body. In managing my broken mental health, I’ve taught myself all sorts of life hacks, or as I call them, “brain hacks,” to work around how gross depression makes me feel. And I’ve told her that if it’s a really bad day, the dishes aren’t going anywhere and can wait until tomorrow.
That’s meant to be compassionate, not taken in the “if you give an inch, they’ll take a mile” sort of way, but it must be interpreted as permission to not do The Thing. It just won’t get done if she feels she has permission to skip over it.
If she does anything, she will want metaphorical ass pats for her good work. OLB jokes that it’s a praise kink, but some days it really seems that way without anyone consenting to participate in her kink. She asks if I noticed she cleaned the kitchen or did some kind of cleaning and if I’m proud of her. I used to play along with the praise because I wanted to give her positive reinforcement, like maybe if I emphasized that it was a good thing, she’d be more encouraged to do it more. I’ve got jokes, apparently. Optimism was so strong early in the friendship.
If she cooks, usually it’s something frozen that she can heat up like pizza. Most of the time, she exists on boxed macaroni and cheese or sandwiches. Or what fast food OLB brings home. Most of her diet is processed, instant, or frozen. Or she eats odds and ends like what cereal and junk food is brought home from the food bank or when OLB goes shopping.
Since SA left the house, I took up cooking for myself and exploring what I like to cook, as SA was the main cook for the house. My gym regimen helped me meal prep and confront a lot of my bad eating habits, so I started prepping healthier foods. I am the stereotypical lifter that eats a lot of chicken, rice, and vegetables. Z also likes to cook, and it became a way for us to bond by cooking together or one of us watching the other cook and just vibe in each other’s company.
VultureBeard gets her name because, one, she is a legbeard. But two, every time I made something early on with her living with us, she always said something along the lines of, “Ooh, that smells so good! It’s making me hungry!”
Me, in my doormat stage, took the cue that she dangled and offered her some of my food. Back then, I always tried to cook enough for the whole house. It became a pattern. If I cooked something, she always popped up, hungry and unable to make actual food for herself or somehow her illnesses were acting up and preventing her from cooking for herself. If I said I was popping over to the store, sometimes she would ask if I could pick up a soda for her and occasionally, she would be able to pay me, always in loose change because her disability payments went right to the bills that she and OLB had. I always took the bait because yeah, doormats will doormat and vultures will vulture.
She does reciprocate in small ways, sharing some occasional treats with me or saying I can have some of her mac n cheese or Oreo cookies or French fries or whatever food she has some days. But for the most point, a lot of her behavior feels like fishing – fishing for attention, for food, for confirmations of her medical issues.
Her general attitude towards housework also contributes to her main other issue that makes me want to scream. She hoards. Empty salsa jars, Nesquik containers, pizza boxes, mac n cheese boxes. She holds onto things that Z and I see as garbage, because she has dozens of DIY projects in mind. She would be the person that followed 5 Minute Crafts for useful projects. To her credit, she did make a nifty sock organizer out of spare cardboard. But she has dozens of empty frozen pizza boxes and macaroni boxes piled up on her desk and ideas in her head, but no actual execution of them. I have pictures on my phone of her desk hoard, and while the desk itself is tall, the pile on the topmost part of the desk reaches the ceiling. That’s at least two feet of buildup.
It drives Z batty. With their OCD, Z can’t stand seeing the general mess in the house, but her desk makes them want to throw things. There was an empty Pizza Hut box that spent a week on the floor under the table in the living room before she finally picked it up and moved it to her desk. She scolded my cat for jumping on it.
Vulture: I want to save it for a project, I just don’t know what I want to use it for yet.
Me: Why not just throw it away? Isn’t it garbage?
She only gave a vague shrug, and the pizza box stayed on her desk for another few days until while cleaning the kitchen, Z got tired of looking at it and finally took it out to the outside garbage bin.
This is a constant pattern for her. She hoards things that she sees as something that could be useful in the future, but in the meantime it all stacks up and takes up space. She and OLB both are pack rats, which I think enables it further. OLB said that she also hoards food when she thinks there’s a food shortage in the house, but that also includes things that shouldn’t be eaten or are close to being spoiled. She freezes produce and even bread dough she made because she would start projects and then not have the energy to finish them or deal with them properly. I think if Z and I weren’t in the house, it would just be a rat’s nest of garbage.
That was why Z and I took on the majority of housework. We have a current setup to deep clean the common areas of the house monthly, and anything she doesn’t pick up that we read as trash will get thrown out. It’s barely making a change in the house, but it’s better for our mental health. It’s unfortunate that the house barely stays clean for two days after we clean it.
OLB usually has an excuse for not contributing towards the housework. His ADHD makes him forgetful, plus he hates dishes and purposefully avoids them until he knows he has to deal with it. He’s mostly just exhausted from work. With Vulture? Ten thousand excuses.
With OLB working an exhausting but consistent tech repair job, that leaves Vulture in charge of Kid during the day. If she exists entirely in her bed and the couch, how is she able to keep up with a toddler?
Oh, that’s going to be a huge tale on its own. Fuckle the buck up. We’ve got a long way to go. And yes, it will make you angry.