I was watching a clip of an old-school legend being honored by his franchise the other day, and it got me thinking about how much the "vibe" of professional sports has shifted over the last decade. I grew up in an era where the idea of a superstar player demanding a move because the numbers weren't hitting their specific target felt almost sacrilegious. You were supposed to be a "one-club man." You were supposed to grit your teeth, play through the injuries, and stay because that’s where you built your legacy. There was this unspoken social contract between the athlete and the fans: "I give you my prime years, and you give me a jersey in the rafters."
But lately, it feels like that contract has been shredded and tossed into the wind.
Don't get me wrong, I’m not saying players shouldn't be paid well. They have incredibly short windows to make a living, and the physical toll is immense. But there’s a growing sense of friction whenever a key piece of a team's identity suddenly decides that the relationship is no longer "mutually beneficial." It feels less like a business transaction and more like a breakup where one person refuses to compromise on a very specific set of demands, even when the other side is clearly trying to keep the lights on.
I see this creeping into other areas of life, too, not just sports. We see it in the corporate world with the "quiet quitting" phenomenon or the sudden exodus of talent from companies that offer great culture but maybe not the exact incremental raise someone feels they've earned. It’s this tension between institutional loyalty and individual optimization. Is it "selfish" to demand your maximum market value if it disrupts the stability of the collective? Or is it "naive" to expect a massive organization to prioritize your individual worth over their own bottom line?
I find myself sitting on the fence. On one hand, if a player is a cornerstone of a defense or an offense—someone who literally holds the structural integrity of the team together—they have a massive amount of leverage. If the team refuses to meet that, the player is essentially being told their value is capped. In that light, asking for a way out isn't a betrayal; it's just a realization that the partnership has reached its expiration date. It’s a business.
On the other hand, there is something deeply hollow about the way these "requests" happen. It feels like a public spectacle designed to force a hand. When a player goes through the media to signal that they aren't happy, it shifts the power dynamic in a way that feels almost coercive. It puts the front office in a corner: either pay up and risk future instability, or let a vital asset walk and watch the team's performance crater. It feels like a high-stakes game of chicken that the fans are forced to watch from the sidelines, often feeling like they're the ones losing when the stars start looking for the exit.
I wonder if we are moving toward a future where the "franchise icon" is a dead concept. Can you truly have a "face of the franchise" when everyone knows that at the first sign of a contract stalemate, the relationship is over? It feels like we're trading long-term storytelling and emotional connection for short-term mathematical efficiency.
I'd love to hear what you guys think. When a player—or even a high-level professional in any field—demands a change because the compensation doesn't match their perception of their value, do you view that as a justified pursuit of worth, or a lack of character and loyalty to the group that built them?
Christian White3 said:Exactly what happened with my old man. He took a turn for the worse at 3:35 AM, they finally rolled up at 4:00. He was already gone. We live out in the Highland area—there’s plenty of ambulances near the old Democratic Party headquarters by the depot, but clearly, these idiots sent a crew all the way from Heinzelov. It was Saturday night heading into Sunday, nothing on the roads. They crawled in like snails. Didn't even bring a defibrillator inside; just felt for a pulse and told us he was dead cold right there in front of everyone. But why am I surprised? Most of these ER people are just general practitioners who don't know their heads from their elbows. They didn't even bother checking his medical history or asking if he smoked. The guy kept rambling about an aneurysm, but my dad actually died from a blocked coronary artery. We were stuck waiting for the coroner until noon. 👎
In the end, nobody could tell me what kind of shock it was, but based on the symptoms (slurred speech, breathing but no pulse, cold sweat on the forehead), it was obviously cardiogenic shock. But those retired general practitioners working the ER probably haven't even heard of it, given how "expert" they are.
They aren't even real doctors most of the time; mostly just recent grads and people who haven't finished their residencies yet. ☕
brightgull95 said:So—sticking to the topic here—the real question isn't "what is EMS for?", it's "why do the dispatchers answering the 911 calls ask the specific questions they do?" Because honestly, it doesn't have much to do with actual medical emergency care.
I'm with you on this.
I saw a show once where those 911 operators in other countries have a strict script of questions they have to follow for certain situations. It’s highly likely it works the exact same way here in the States.
Question for the nurses on here: If you've only got one ambulance and two unconscious patients—one who's 30 and one who's 60—do you go for the older one? Is that why they ask about age?
It doesn't make sense to me. Age isn't even a rule for determining who's sicker; being older just means they might be less mobile. Besides, nowadays you see twenty-year-olds with a laundry list of diagnoses, whereas it feels like the older generations are actually healthier than the young ones today.🤔
Everyone’s got a little bit of everything going on. The whole idea is figuring out which type you were born as—identifying those core traits that define you. Your body shape doesn't necessarily have to match a specific category.
That dominant type? It's basically a dysfunction you're dealing with that needs fixing. Like, if someone's a Pitta type, they're constantly running hot and angry, so you have to follow certain rules just to dial down that temper.
Look, if your doctor already told you they messed up, then yeah, it happened. The best move is to get that doctor to put it in writing on your medical report. Don't just rely on hearsay. Once you have that, find a forensic expert to review your files so you know for sure, then file a formal complaint with the authorities.
Richard James23 said:Did you get the procedure done at Pike Place Market? I'm getting ready to go through with it.
Has anyone actually been there? I've got some external hemorrhoids left over from my last bout, and I really want this sorted out. Someone suggested going to Canada, but I’d much rather just handle it here in the States. I live out in the sticks, but I'm in Chicago three times a month, so a clinic in Chicago or somewhere nearby works fine for me.
We're planning on trying for a baby soon, so I figured it's best to get this taken care of beforehand.🕺
Casey Rogers47 said:After waiting months for surgery on a grade III hemorrhoid, I finally hit my date at the end of September. The day before, you get called in for a COVID-19 test at the hospital. That afternoon, you have to take a prep to clear out your bowels. No eating after 3 PM, though you can sip liquids until midnight. Next day, show up at the window before 8 AM, check in, and head straight to the abdominal surgery ward. About thirty minutes to an hour before the procedure, you swallow a sedative pill with just a tiny bit of water. A nurse brings you a gown to change into—you gotta strip down completely first. You also put on compression stockings to prevent blood clots. When it’s time for the OR, they wheel you in on a bed. The welcome is kind of funny; there were six medical staff members hovering over me. They were all in good spirits, asking how I was and stuff. Before the spinal anesthesia, the anesthesiologist cleans your back with iodine or something similar. Her assistant explains they need to set up an IV, hook up the EKG, blood pressure cuff, etc. He gets you positioned perfectly for the spinal. The anesthesiologist feels around for the best spot between the vertebrae to inject the anesthetic and tells you everything will be fine. The injection itself wasn't anything special—maybe two stabs. It kicks in fast; first, you feel this warmth in your feet. Then they laid me down, put my legs in the stirrups, and Dr. Domagoj Ivanović and his assistant got to work. There were two surgical techs standing by too. The anesthesiologist checked in on me several times. I chatted a bit with her and the assistant. Didn't feel a thing. The whole surgery took about half an hour. Once it was done, they covered me with a green sheet and wheeled me to the transition area between the OR and the hallway, where nurses were already waiting with a bed to take me. They moved me to the abdominal surgery unit and immediately asked if I needed pain meds. I didn't need anything then. But a few hours later, the pain started hitting, so they gave me something through the IV. I had more pain relief during the night and again around 6 AM, because that first night is brutal. By the next afternoon, the pain was much more manageable than it was overnight. I was supposed to be discharged, but since I'm a younger guy, I dealt with a rare side effect where I couldn't pee, so they had to put in a catheter. I stayed an extra day just because of that inability to go on my own. It took three attempts to pee and three times they had to reset the catheter. After that, they let me go with the catheter. Everything normalized eventually. For pain, I took Motrin granules for two weeks. I'm doing great now, and honestly, I don't think you should spend years trying to soothe hemorrhoids with random creams, ointments, or pills like I did. All that just let them progress from Grade I to Grade III. What I want to say as a final "cherry on top" is about the staff on the abdominal surgery ward. All the best to them. Huge props. Whenever I needed something, a nurse was there within 2-3 minutes. They were incredibly professional and helpful—you can tell they actually want to help people. Hats off to them.
So, are you hemorrhoid-free now?
I don't trust doctors when it comes to these kinds of surgeries because if they screw up once, you're set for life. And there are zero guarantees they'll actually help you. I'm extremely careful about what I eat and how long I sit just so something like this doesn't happen to me (fingers crossed).
Chloe Garcia10 said:Hey there! I need recommendations for a good family doctor or GP. Looking for someone in Chicago (either West Side or Downtown). Mine is a total disaster. Zero expertise, zero empathy, won't even sign off on sick leave.
Thanks!
I heard the doctors over in Siget are great. If you find anyone good, let me know because I’m also hunting for a GP. I live over on Folnegovica, but I work near the Arena, so having someone along that route would be perfect.🕺
On my end, I'm looking for the best specialist in Chicago for adult acne. Someone who actually wants to deal with the case instead of just slapping an antibiotic prescription on you and saying "it's nothing."☕
I had one too, just on my upper arm. It's basically fatty tissue that needs to be cleared out. You should 100% go see a doctor; they can just go in and surgically remove it at a local clinic.
coastalbison6 said:I just went back and checked my old prescriptions, which explains how I ended up with a slight B12 overdose. Neurobion Forte—each capsule has: 100mg B1 200mg B6 200µg B12 Supposedly, this combo is the best way to ensure absorption and effectiveness. The problem was, I was taking three capsules every single day.😁 Once I start again, I'll definitely scale back to just two. I rarely eat meat, though—maybe two or three meals a week at most.
You can't overdose on B vitamins or Vitamin C. They're water-soluble. Any excess your body doesn't need just gets flushed out through your urine. It passes right through you instead of building up. If your B12 levels are still low, you've got an absorption issue. You need to pair B12 with other vitamins and minerals that help it get absorbed. That's why getting it from food is the best way to go—just like any other vitamin.
Bottom line: you won't overdose on B12, but you definitely can with fat-soluble ones like A, D, and E because those actually store themselves in your system.
Is there a way to see all my posts? I was just digging through my history and it's only showing me a fraction of them—just enough to fill five pages. Basically, I can't get back to my very first post, and I really wanted to check out what that 🙂
The ATMs aren't even showing up for me either. They were working just fine before that last update. Honestly, I’m more worried about why my PIN failed today. I'll have to head down to JP Morgan Chase tomorrow to get them to reset my activation key and explain what the hell happened today.
Anyone else getting locked out of the app even though they’re using the right PIN? My account is totally frozen now, and I'm positive I entered it correctly three times.
Check the comment above; go read his take or go see a social worker.
The Department of Justice handles medical malpractice lawsuits—that’s criminal territory—and personally, I don't see any proof of actual malpractice here. It’s all just hearsay at this point.
As for a civil suit for damages—if that’s what you were getting at—it’s too early for that, too. A doctor hasn't even officially assessed your damages yet, so there's nothing to talk about.
Alexander Adams94 said:Just write down a random string of letters and numbers on a scrap of paper, use it to reset your password, log out, and toss the note in the trash. What does deleting a profile even accomplish when all those posts you wrote here over the last few years are still sitting on the server? There’s no "I was gone" or "nothing happened" excuse to hide behind once it's online.
I’m not ashamed of a single thing I’ve posted because everything I wrote was totally normal—I could honestly put my full name and surname next to them if I wanted. This isn't about shame. It's about the fact that I'm genuinely CURIOUS why, once an account is deactivated, there's no option to delete a profile, yet the posts stay visible either under your name or anonymously.
Is there any way to deactivate or just straight up delete my profile? I’ve looked everywhere and can't find an option or even a mention of it anywhere.
It feels weird that you can't just do it, especially since Facebook had to build a full deletion process into their system. Even if the posts stick around, I want to know if there's a way to freeze the account instead of wiping it completely. Like, a way to make it so you can't even log back in. 🙂
nimblelynx63 said:Just so we're clear, that donor card doesn't actually carry any legal weight. It was basically just a marketing gimmick from back when they were trying to drum up awareness about organ donation.
In the US, organ donation is governed by the principle of presumed consent. This means you AREN'T officially a donor unless you’ve specifically filed that declaration with your primary care physician. Before those grief counselors start talking—and honestly, it's because of people like them—doctors who identify potential donors and manage the pre-transplant process NEVER register anyone without sitting down with the family and getting their explicit consent. So, sure, it's great that you signed the card, but it’s way more important to actually talk to your family and make sure they know exactly what your wishes are. If anyone here thinks they "heard" or "know" of someone in America having their organs harvested without family permission, feel free to reach out—DM me if you want—and I will gladly help you report that to the proper authorities.
One question for shadownomad43 (respecting your religious and personal views here): during any of your 12 surgeries, or in the recovery periods afterward, did you ever receive blood or blood products? I ask because a transfusion is essentially a form of transplantation in the broader sense. And thankfully, in the US, awareness regarding transplants has finally started to boost interest in the importance of voluntary blood donation.
By the way, if anyone here who wrote legal articles on this topic is reading, I know a thing or two about this. Legally speaking, a donor card does make you a donor. For everyone, if the card isn't on file, they check the registry to see if they're listed as donors or if they've opted out. That's how they proceed. If there's no record either way, they ask the family, even though they aren't legally forced to.🥱🥱
I agree with you—shadownomad43 is definitely spinning this to suit her own narrative. Twelve corrective surgeries—unless we're talking cosmetic stuff—hardly qualifies as "not extending your life." You didn't just say you're against donation; you said you're against deviating from your "natural life path." Well, if you're so against it, why go under the knife for surgeries meant to keep you going? 🤔