Maple medical white plains

I'm making my next game a contrast from my first, I want to make a black and white game, the back of the card would be white art on black background and the front black on white background.
I couldn't find that many examples that have this style, Cards against humanity is just plain text all the way, and Dany has a bit of a simplistic art style, I'm looking for some games that managed to make black and white art interesting in a way, making it eye catching and such.
Let me know if you know any good examples

According to the Gender Dysphoria Bible, biochemical dysphoria is caused by the brain being wired for one kind of gonadal hormones (such as testosterone) and the body producing the other hormones (such as estradiol). Cross-hormone therapy supposedly always results in dysphoria and PCOS causes low mental health in cis women. Secret Gamer Girl says that if a confused cis person was to attempt medical transition they would feel absolutely awful and probably stop immediately.
Sophie writes:

Before transitioning, I was completely numb. I didn't feel happiness or joy, nor sadness or sorrow. I felt dead on the inside, like I was acting out a script someone else had written for me. After deciding to transition, it was as if all my life the whole world had been a sepia movie, and all of a sudden it got colors. I started feeling lots of things for the first time

Trans Girl Next Door writes:

I expected the kind of happiness I get when I go to the beach with my friends, or when I land an awesome job. Don't get me wrong, there were many moments like that during my first year, but I learned that most of the time it's more of a bliss. It's not showy, pumping, or loud like a cliche pride anthem; it's more like a soft subtle sound track that feathers your heart. This is something I had realized early on in my transition, it is absolutely the strangest but most wonderful thing ever. It's almost as if my life in the past 23 years was just in black and white. Now it's absorbing and radiating colors at the same time. Life isn't just "happy" or "sad" anymore, there are so many other emtions inbetweem, and I finally gained access to them. But most importantly, for the first time in forever, I finally feel alive now

I have heard many stories about trans people feeling really, really good on the first day of taking their hormones and that this feeling is a sign that you're doing the right thing. DR Z PHD even made a warning that some people start taking hormones, start feeling a lot better, and then stop taking the hormones because they think they are not trans anymore, only to then feel even worse than before.
I even read somewhere that some trans women found out they are trans simply because they received estrogen for a completely unrelated reason!
Because of all this, I expected to feel something when I get my first hormones. I even thought that the feeling I get would explain to me whether I'm actually transgender or not. It even went so far that I was ready to detransition if the hormones would make me feel bad, assuming that this would prove that I am not trans after all but only a person wanting to be a different gender and that those hormones would only make everything worse.
So then I took my first hormones and I felt...nothing.
I have been on hormones for over 2 years now. And apart from the estrogen having made me more emotional, the hormones haven't changed my emotions in any way whatsoever. They have changed my body a lot though. I now pass as my target gender effortlessly and I even get complimented on my look sometimes. I always knew I wanted my body to be different and the bodily changes caused by the hormones do make me happy. But is that really all there is?
My therapist told me it is. I showed him some of the examples above and he said that the reason PCOS causes low mental health in cis women is because it masculinizes their bodies, thereby making the cis women uncomfortable in their own bodies.
But then what about the supposed feeling of bliss on the first day of taking hormones? One day isn't nearly enough to cause even the slightest bodily changes. Does this mean that this is all just placebo? But even if it was, how would what DR Z PHD warned about even be possible??????????

I had never visited the small town of Shirljohannes before, somewhere on the border of Germany and Switzerland, despite my fairly extensive travels for work around Europe. These continental small towns, they are so charming and picturesque, the literal scenes of The Sound of Music and shite like that. However they do end up being a bit “samey”- and I wasn’t expecting my overnight stay at Shirljohannes to be much different. It was an unplanned stop, I had found myself somewhat tired and drowsy after an exceptionally good meal, and decided to check in a local inn and get some much-needed sleep.
The pretty inn with blooming spring flowers at the window sills and such like certainly didn’t belie the horror of the next day. It was only the obvious confusion of the otherwise polite young clerk upon laying eyes on me that gave me the inkling that I had made a terrible choice to break my journey in Shirljohannes.
I couldn’t help noticing the large bright posters hanging in the lobby. Depicting small crowds of people clearly of non-European descent, such as Arabs, Middle-Eastern, Far East, and South / South Eastern Asians, they all bore the words “Lotteri Dag 2023”. Some kind of artsy “United Colours of Benetton” ad, I naively assumed.
The clerk, himself clearly of Middle-Eastern origin, greeted me with a startled look which he could not hide. He asked for my name and then exclaimed “Mr. Abbas? You are Mr. Abbas? And you’re staying here?”
I was confused. “Yes indeed, I am staying for one night. This seemed a good a place as any for a stop, I was too tired to drive on”.
“Can I see your ID please? Do you have European ID sir?” To my ears, he sounded very suspicious.
I am of course used to a certain amount of low-level, poorly-concealed racism traveling in Europe, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed that this clerk, whose parents if not himself would probably have shared a similar heritage to mine, would act like this. I offered my passport. “No, but I have the correct visas” I responded sharply.
The clerk said nothing more, and checked me in. My mood soured, I went to my room, and soon fell asleep.
The next morning, two officers approached me at the breakfast table, where I was enjoying some amazing pastries, already checked out and my suitcase at my side..
“We entered you in the Lottery sir” they said in heavy accents. “We ran background checks on you- you are waiting for your Canadian citizenship and thus eligible to enter. Canada entered an official agreement with our government just last week. You can look up the articles.”
I stared at them, completely confused. “What are you talking about?
They returned my stare with bland official courtesy. “The Lottery sir. You will be entering the Passport Lottery held periodically at Shirljohannes, to celebrate the citizenship of our hardworking foreign worker population. You were found to meet the official requirements for entry. We entered your name. You will present yourself at the town square in precisely 43 minutes, when the name will be drawn.”
The other said “and sir, please do not even think of leaving Shirljohannes or calling anyone outside the town. It will be much better for you to complete the Lottery. The odds are, you will be on your way within the hour.”
They left.
With a shaking hand, I pulled out my phone and began googling. Within seconds, I realised I do not have acces to the world wide internet, but only some weird local Shirljohannes intranet. I hastily clicked on the bizarre English translation.
The Lottery was the (almost) last step on the long, convoluted journey for Foreigners in Shirljohannes applying to become Citizens. After years of filling and sending in forms, paying fees, waiting, waiting, interviews, more forms, changes to family composition, more waiting, foreigners who were eligible for citizenship and the cherished passport of a European country would have to enter the Lottery.
The foreign community would choose one person, who would be sent by ambulance to the local hospital, where they would be administered a painless, lethal dose by professionals. The final step, necessary to prove their loyalty and dedication to their new country.
I clicked through the intranet menus, sun streaming on the beautiful breakfast setting. A cuckoo jumped out of an ornate old cuckoo clock and declared time. The young clerk from last night came up to me as I was reading.
“Mr. Abbas, it is time to go. The community- it’s better to go- they don’t like it if there are delays.”
I looked up at him, terror gripping me. “I don’t understand… how is this happening, how is this legal?”
The clerk shrugged. “It is legal. The municipal councils voted it in a few years ago- and the elders of the community support it. There were so many hate crimes, so much violence against foreigners. It is better now. I heard North America will be adopting similar laws soon. Of course it is very silent now- but if you looked, you would have found the information- and of course, the dependents of the sacrifice will be supported- very humane- but come, let’s go. We cannot keep them waiting.”
Propelled by fear, I got up, and followed him outside. The sun poured through the clear Alpine air into my eyes. In the glare, I could see knots of people, in twos and threes walking down the scenic mountain streets, all towards the city square. The clerk and I joined the flow.
Walking by us was a small group of women, dressed in ornate decorative ethnic clothing I would associate with India. The sunlight struck off the brilliant spangles in their clothes. I then noticed many people were dressed ethniccally, while others wore plain western style clothing. Several women wore the hijab. There was little subdued chatter. I heard a woman in a sparkling robe say in a dialect I recalled from my childhood- “I prayed and prayed all night it would be me- I can’t bear my children- “ before the other women said “shhh Tasneem, do not talk of it. Do not go welcoming sorrow.”
As we drew closer to the town square, the crowds grew larger, and quieter. There was a moment of pure silence. Then everything began happening very fast.
A middle-aged man who looked to be some authority figure went up on a platform before a small splashy fountain which held the statue of naked white Venus and some other Greek deity. I just noticed the device set up on the platform.
The man operated the device. My heart was beating so fast as it spit out a paper that I thought it would burst out of my chest. The man held up the paper and he read out a name. “Tasneem-”
I didn’t catch the last part of the name in the rippling sigh which broke through the crowd. I saw the women fall away from the one whom I had earlier heard talking about praying. In the same movement, paramedics moved up to her, and started guiding her towards a waiting ambulance, at the edge of the town square.
The silence continued, although small murmurs could be heard. Tasneem did not struggle - her demeanour seemed one of submission and resignation.
The knots of people broke away from the crowd. A certain festive mood was undeniable. My young companion was no longer at my side, and I caught sight of him running over to young folk closer to his age, releasing a whoop of joy and relief.
I looked around. The two officers approached me and smiled grimly. “Very well Mr. Abbas, the Lottery is over. Congratulations on your upcoming citizenship. You may depart now without any further delays.”
I nodded. It was clear they expected me to leave right then. I could not disobey. I quickly walked to my car, and got in.
Within twenty minutes, I was well on my way to my destination, Shirljohannes behind me. May I never set foot in that terrible town again.

i (19f - he/they pronouns please) was severely neglected as a kid, including medically. i don't have much support when it comes to anything right now, and i'm still learning how to navigate taking care of my own medical stuff.
after five consecutive years of nearly no medical care at all (an inconclusive ER visit for some severe abdominal pain and a couple of vaccinations) i started seeing a new pcp because the old one my parents took me to when they absolutely had to was insufferable.
my concerns and reasons for seeing her included severe menstrual pain (got recommended an IUD without looking into possible causes and i'm not happy about that either for several reasons i won't go into here), ridiculously high heart rate at times (prescribed heart monitor for two weeks), and joint pain.
i've had symmetrical joint pain for 5+ months in my fingers, wrists, elbows, and occasionally toes and knees as well. my PIP joints are noticeably enlarged and the xray i managed to get showed "degenerative changes in the bilateral first CMC joints." all of my bloodwork has come back normal (including RF, anti-CCP, and ANA) except for a low white count.
the first thing my pcp did upon our first visit was get me a psych referral (which, admittedly, was very needed and that's not why i'm upset) and i've been keeping up reading her notes from our visits available through my online portal and i feel really really dismissed. she also misgendered me repeatedly in her notes after our first visit (first visit's notes were fine. not great. but fine.) after claiming to be a queer ally and wanting to do her best to take care of her queer patients. she will not refer me to a rheumatologist.
for reasons due to neglect i'm still very reliant on my parents to be able to even get to a doctor and it's a miracle at this point that i'm even seeing this one but yeah - i don't know what to do.

Been watching Nika for a while and as fucked as this is... here is the truth about CPS from someone who works for CPS in a different state.
98.9% of what is posted here is 100% true minus Nika and Niya and what they post on those troll pages they create.
Nika is unfit, she is neglectful, fails to provide proper care, support, and guidance for kids, and every dwelling they have lived in should be burned to the ground.
In my state, I have worked with families who live in tents with their children because they cannot afford the rising cost of rent and the children are considered safe. There is shelter over their head, they are with an adult, and by law... CPS CANNOT STEP IN TO REMOVE THOSE KIDS.
The state is involved, most school districts know what is happening and are involved, but they try to step in other ways to help...
By sending food bags home with the children daily to ensure they are eating year-round, helping them get on the wait list for housing and pushing it through as fast as they can because children are involved, having Santa come around during Christmas with one gift the child/children want.
REGARDLESS of how I feel as a mom who provides and does have spoiled children...
That is the law. I must push my personal feelings aside and follow protocol.
I have cried many nights thinking about certain cases that I manage.
CPS does not have anywhere to put all those kids, so they are trying their best to work with NIka. They do care about the conditions of the home, but it will not be to our liking, satisfaction, and it will not be white glove cleanliness involved.
Resources are lacking y'all...
A roof must be over their head and YES... there are SOME conditions that must be met... BUT something major must happen.
Neglect, physical, emotional, or sexual abuse... like Nika leaving them there with the baby for days or weeks without the necessities, not just going to bingo or going to get fucked.
Some states allow for kids to be left alone but have time limits and it depends on how independent the kids are...
CPS is around because they know Nika is not worth a damn. They will be around for a lonnnnnng time.
Y'all cannot keep calling because the house is dirty. Her case worker already knows that. Y'all gotta come harder and have hard evidence.
Not her trolling on the internet and saying dumb shit because she knows the Reddit page is going to react. Nika retarded, but she is not completely slow. She knows how to put on a show.
Y'all see how fast they jumped in and took them when that lil boy burned himself?!
That was medical neglect...
The educational neglect is there, but they made it right by getting everyone their shots and helping them get to school.
We have seen physical and emotional neglect, THE BITCH PUTS EVERYTHING ON THE INTERNET, but unfortunately it is not enough...
Especially when those kids fear her and will not speak up.
The worst thing you can do to someone who was neglected as a child is feed into their bullshit.
This page does that. She gets off on it.
It is entertaining though.
Believe me when I say there are children in worse conditions than these kids.
Give it some time... Nika will fuck up sooner or later.

I'm terrified of playgrounds.
Not the mild discomfort most people experience when they're too old for the swings, but a bone-chilling, skin-crawling terror that roots me to the spot whenever I see one. This fear isn't irrational, nor did it appear out of nowhere. It's the product of a series of harrowing experiences during my childhood.
It's a strange fear, I know. Playgrounds, with their slides and swings, are usually synonymous with joy, laughter, and childhood innocence. But for me, they evoke memories of a time when a sinister threat was hiding in plain sight. They remind me of the day my best friend, Philip, vanished without a trace.
We grew up in a small, rural town - a quaint place isolated from the bustle and dangers of the city. It was a time before the internet when everything seemed simpler, and our playground was our haven, our escape from the grown-up world.
But, our idyllic childhood was marred by the rumors of a white van, said to snatch children away as dusk fell. Parents, in their fear, enforced an unyielding curfew. We were to be home before 8:00 p.m. - no exceptions.
This warning echoed in my mind on the day Philip didn't show up for school. His usual spot in the classroom was empty. Confusion turned into worry when I got home to find that Philip's parents had called. He hadn't returned home the previous night.
I had seen him last at the playground. We had left around 7:30 p.m., half an hour earlier than usual, laughing nervously at the rumors of the white van. But now, Philip was missing, and the playground didn't seem so innocent anymore.
For a week, I steered clear of it. Its once inviting structures now seemed foreboding. The swings swayed ominously, the slide stood cold and vacant, and the once vibrant atmosphere was replaced by a silence that chilled me to the bone.
Little did I know then that the true horror was just beginning, a reality so sinister that I would never look at a playground the same way again…
I spent the days that followed Philip's disappearance in a haze of fear and confusion. The echoes of laughter and chatter that once filled our school hallways were replaced by whispers and heavy silence. Everyone was on edge, expecting the worst but hoping for the best.
The unease was so palpable that I did the unthinkable. Against all reason, I returned to the playground. I needed to know if I'd missed something, a sign of what had happened to Philip. It was just me there, alone with the setting sun casting long, eerie shadows across the playground.
There was something off about the place. The air was thick with an unseen tension. It felt like looking at one of those optical illusion pictures, where an image within the image only reveals itself once you see it. And then, once you've seen it, you can't unsee it.
It was around 7:30 p.m., the same time when Philip and I had last been there. For a moment, I considered staying till 8 p.m., testing the rumor of the white van. But the very thought made me shiver. It was a chilling prospect, imagining myself disappearing like Philip. My heart pounded against my chest as a cold wave of fear washed over me.
I bolted. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, all the way home. The sight of the empty playground, once filled with joy, now felt like a cruel mockery of our childhood innocence. When I reached home, my mother asked if something had happened. I shook my head, unable to voice my fears, and retreated to the comfort of my room and my video games, anything to distract myself from the grim reality.
Soon, our little town was swarming with police. The investigation, which had begun almost immediately after Philip's disappearance, ramped up. Officers interviewed us at school, their serious expressions a stark contrast to our usually carefree surroundings.
We all understood the grim reality - the chances of finding Philip were getting slimmer by the day. Each passing moment felt like an icy hand tightening around my heart. Little did I know, the worst was yet to come…
After my interview with the police, I hoped that was the end of my involvement with the whole incident. I had shared what little I knew, that we were at the playground till 7:30 on the day Philip disappeared. But soon, the school corridors were buzzing with whispers again, this time with a chilling specificity.
The rumor wasn't just about being out after 8 p.m. anymore, it was specifically about the playground, exactly at 8 p.m., and only on Thursdays. This was when the white van would supposedly show up to claim its next victim. This eerie specificity fueled a morbid curiosity among us, as twisted as it sounds. It was like the early, analog version of TikTok challenges, only, the stakes were deadly real.
Some even dared each other to be at the playground at the said time, to prove there was nothing to fear. I found it baffling, but then I wondered, maybe the police had already combed through the playground and found nothing because they weren't looking at the right time? Or maybe, they weren't seeing what only children could see.
As the weeks wore on, the police investigation eventually wrapped up, presumably without any substantial leads. The fate of my best friend remained a mystery, but our town was irrevocably changed. What once felt like a safe, rural haven now seemed like a prison, its residents held captive by a creeping dread.
Then, the unthinkable happened. One Thursday evening, four more children vanished, all at once. They were the ones who had dared to challenge the rumors. The town was thrown into fresh chaos. The police were back, and another round of investigations started. The rumors, it seemed, were far from baseless.
I felt a sickening sense of dread and guilt. I knew those kids were at the playground that night. But like everyone else, I had dismissed it as a foolish dare. The enormity of the situation was too much to bear, and my mind began to spin…
I made the decision. I had to go to the playground. I had to see it for myself, to understand what was happening at 8 p.m. every Thursday. I resolved to remain hidden though, hidden in the nearby bushes, armed with a pair of binoculars, watching, observing. The fear, the anticipation was unbearable; nightmares invaded my sleep every night, scenes of the white van and the empty playground replayed endlessly in my mind.
I was seeing a therapist during this time, someone to help me deal with the grief and anxiety that had taken over my life. The advice they gave me was to confront my fears. And so, in a twisted sense, that's what I decided to do. But from a distance, hidden in the safety of the bushes. Nothing could happen to me there, right?
So there I was, Thursday evening, 8 p.m., not on the playground, but on its fringes, peering through my binoculars. The last of the children had left around 7:45 p.m., their lingering laughter still echoing in the deserted playground.
I watched the slide, the swings, the seesaw, the jungle gym, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just the usual playground equipment standing in the eerie silence of the night. But then, I looked back at the slide. And suddenly, it hit me like a ton of bricks.
A flash of memory washed over me - an almost photographic projection of a moment from the past, a moment with Philip.
And then it hit me, the memory almost too clear, too bright in my mind. Philip and I playing on the playground, him sliding down the slide, his Mario cap proudly displayed on his head. He loved Super Mario Bros., especially after Super Mario Bros. 3 was released. We were both obsessed. He was always Mario and, by default, I ended up as Luigi. And that was fine by me.
I remember him complaining about the slide that day, his words echoing in my mind now. "This slide sucks, it's like Luigi's slide," he'd said, referring to its green color. He'd claimed that Mario’s color, red, would make it much better. That was Philip, always seeing the world through a lens of video games.
Now, standing on the fringes of the playground, staring through the lenses of my binoculars, I saw it. The slide, it wasn't green anymore. It was red, a familiar red. The exact same red as Philip's Mario cap. And not just the color, the shape too had altered. It was steeper, almost menacing. It was as if the slide had transformed, mirroring the sinister events that had been unfolding in our town.
My mind raced back to other times at the playground, recalling eerie changes that we had dismissed as products of our vivid imaginations. The swings seemingly moving on their own, strange sounds at odd times. Now I realized, the playground had been changing, morphing, all along. And we had been too innocent, too naive to see it.
As the minutes ticked closer to 8 p.m., my heart pounded in my chest, my hands trembled, sweat making my grip on the binoculars slippery. A wave of fear washed over me, chilling me to my bones. The feeling was tangible, almost alive, a palpable presence in the air. It felt like a malevolent entity had taken residence in the playground, an entity that had consumed my best friend. The realisation sent a shiver down my spine. I knew something was terribly wrong, but I had no idea what was about to unfold before my eyes.
I stood there, frozen in fear, as two boys from my school entered the playground. They sauntered around, their voices echoing in the eerie silence, their words filling me with dread. "There's nothing here, man," one of them said. I could see them shrugging, dismissing the rumors, the fear that had gripped our town. They sat on the seesaw, swinging back and forth, arguing about something. Their words were muffled by the distance, but their casual demeanor gave me the impression that they were merely there on a dare.
I checked my watch – 8:01 p.m. Despite the primal urge to intervene, to warn them, I was paralyzed. My promise to myself held me in place, preventing me from stepping into the playground, from putting myself in danger.
Through the binoculars, I observed the seesaw and the boys. Suddenly, the air around them started to shimmer, like heat haze on a summer day. But this was different, unnatural. It was as if the air itself was twisting, spiraling, distorting the playground's reality.
As I squinted to see better, my heart skipped a beat. The boys' forms were changing, contorting. They appeared to be shrinking, their bodies becoming smaller and smaller. Then, as if following some twisted law of physics, they began to merge with the seesaw, their bodies and the metallic seats becoming one.
The sight was horrifying. Their bodies seemed to dematerialize, morphing into an alien substance that was neither human nor metal. Their panicked screams were piercing, distorted by the horrific transformation. As they shrank and merged, their screams grew muffled, suffocated by their closing mouths.
Fear gripped me, making me nauseous. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from the grotesque spectacle. I stood there, horrified and mesmerized, as the boys disappeared, their existence swallowed by the demonic playground.
With that unbearable sight burned into my mind, I dropped my binoculars and bolted. I sprinted all the way home, my heart pounding in my chest, the images of the boys' gruesome transformation haunting me. When I burst through the front door, my mom looked at me, her eyes wide with surprise and concern. She started asking questions, but I didn't answer. I just dashed past her, up the stairs, and slammed my bedroom door behind me. I locked it, the click of the latch feeling like the only protection I had against the nightmare I had just witnessed.
I didn't sleep that night. Instead, I lay in my bed, wide awake, my mind racing. I was grappling with an insane, terrifying thought: what if the white van was a distraction, a false rumor? What if the playground was the real predator, consuming the children and turning them into parts of itself?
What if Philip had become the slide? His beloved Mario cap had been red, just like the slide. The thought of kids innocently playing on what was once my friend made my stomach churn. I know it sounds ludicrous, crazy even. But after witnessing the seesaw devour those two boys, I couldn't shake the idea.
As I lay there, a horrifying realization dawned on me. The seats of the seesaw… they must have changed color. They must have taken on the color of the boys' clothes. But I couldn't confirm it. I couldn't bring myself to go back and check, not after what I had seen.
The next day at school, the boys were absent. Their empty seats seemed to echo my suspicions. Their names were added to the growing list of missing children, and they were never seen again.

2 years ago, my brother and I were going on a road trip. A cross-country trip, cutting through Alabama. It'd been six years since I'd seen him in person, and also the last time.
It was late in the night and even with the headlights visible, the road was dark. It seemed empty. The night was quiet, with no sounds of honking or even animals. A bit too quiet, perhaps. A bright light hit us. We didn't see the truck approaching us.
The front windscreen cracked and the shards of glass pierced through my eyes. I still remember that penetrating sensation. I'm grateful I lost consciousness then and there, but my brother wasn't so lucky. He bled out, stuck in the car.
Grim, some say. I just think it was unfortunate.
Anyway, the incident rendered me blind. Doctors said corneal transplantation wouldn't help. I was blind for good. However, they decided they would try one last time. One last time to get my eyesight back. My parents weren't what you would term 'rich', but they had enough to spend on me. After all, I was all that was left to them after my brother's death.
A couple of months I received a new pair of eyes from a donor. I overheard the doctor telling my parents he had Marfan syndrome and was a suspect in a crime before he died, but again my parents really wanted me to see again.
When the day came, the nurse slowly removed the bandages from my face. It was different this time. I saw a bright white light. Everything was initially blurry at the beginning. Everyone's face looked blurry, like an old video game, but I could see now. I'm not stuck behind some black wall anymore.
I was only blind for 2 years, but everyone acted like it was the first time I'd seen the world. They kept asking me if I knew what this was or what that was, like whether I knew that was a lightbulb or a TV.
Anyways, that's not the reason why I'm writing this. I just wanted to provide some context.
2 months ago, I was at home, watching a movie with my boyfriend. It was way past midnight at this point and my boyfriend was drooling on my shoulder. I was about to turn off the TV when I saw something at the end of the corridor, behind the TV.
There was a humanoid figure, standing there. I couldn't make out any of the details due to how dark the room was. I rubbed my eyes and it was gone. The doctor told me that seeing things could be a side effect, so I dismissed this incident as one of those, but it was definitely unsettling.
Nothing strange happened for a while. Although, my eyes have felt a bit sore. Might just be sleep issues or something.
That was until last month.
I was in bed, scrolling through the endless Reddit posts on my phone. I was about to turn it off and get some sleep, but I saw something in the corner of the room, stationary. I swear it was the same humanoid figure.
It was more clear this time, though. I wish it wasn't, though.
The figure must've been at least 7 feet. I could see parts of the face. Its white eyes stared at me and I stared back, frozen. I tried to get up, but I was stuck. It was holding me down despite standing a few feet away.
I don't think I got any sleep that night, or even the entire week. Everything feels fuzzy as I type it. I don't remember the rest of the night. I just woke up the next morning and ran straight to my boyfriend's house.
I told him everything and he obviously laughed at me. He decided that he'd spend the night at my house. Nothing happened that night and he accused me of wasting his time.
I didn't see it again for another few weeks, but that didn't make anything better. I knew it would come back and began growing paranoid. Sleep was occasional and I set up cameras in my house. I would stare at the feed, waiting for it to appear, but it wouldn't. It was tormenting me on purpose. I installed some warm lights in the room, so I never fall asleep while watching the feed. My eyes were getting red and I began finding it difficult to focus on objects, whether distant or close.
I told my doctor and he recommended me a psychiatrist. I kept telling him what I saw was true, but he wouldn't listen.
"u/AshvikV, what you're seeing are hallucinations and they're quite common, but you're going paranoid with this thing. The only good thing is that you're just seeing it."
"How is that good?"
"You're not hearing it, which is I'm recommending you this psychiatrist who'll help before things go out of hand and you go medically insane."
I'm not fucking insane. I know that what I saw was real. I never went to that psychiatrist. I slightly regret that.
It happened again two weeks ago. I was watching the feed. I saw myself in the reflection of the screens... but I saw something else as well.
That thing was standing behind me. It could've been there for hours and I wouldn't have noticed. I didn't dare to turn around. If I turned around, I'm sure I would've been able to see it due to how well-lit the room was. I looked at the feed, but there was nothing in the room except me, and then I heard it...
"Just turn around. I won't harm you, darling. I might just poke a bit, but that's it. I have some unfinished business."
It was a raspy voice, but charming.
I looked at the reflection back on the screen and saw it walking towards me. It crouched down next to me and put its hand on my shoulder and whispered into my ear.
"I'll only take two of them."
I saw its face on the screen. I won't describe it. I won't let that image seep back into my head, but I knew how close it was to getting want it wanted. I could hear it that day and I can't even tell my doctor about what's happening. He'll think I'm crazy.
I told my boyfriend, desperate that he'll help out. He shoved me away and told me to get help. I started losing myself. I'm seeing dead children on the ground, begging me to find them and save them before "he does".
I can barely feel my eyes. They almost look white, like the iris is faded away. They hurt a lot, but I won't that shit get to me.
2 days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. I saw the door creak open and was prepared to see that thing emerge from it, but there was nothing.
"Give me your eyes, darling."
It was standing over me. Right over my face. I blinked and it vanished.
I tried to forget about it. Maybe if I don't think about it, it'll stop or something. I still see the dead kids. I went to the doctor and told him. I was desperate and I needed him to do something. Even if he sent me to some asylum, I might be safe from this thing.
He obviously didn't believe me. That was until I mentioned the dead kids. He looked at me, shocked. He told me that my eye donor was suspected to be a serial killer who gouged out children's eyes and sent the bodies back to their parents. Before the police could confirm he was the culprit, he was killed in an accident.
I froze. I wish I was crazy, but now everything makes sense. I wish it didn't though.
I'm at home now, staring at the feed while I type this. I can feel its hand on my shoulder. I don't want to see that reflection. I really don't. Maybe if I stop thinking about him, he'll stop.
The condition of my eyes has gotten worse. I haven't been able to close my eyelids for the past few hours. I want to gouge them it, but I don't have the courage. The pain of grasping the socket for support and crunching on the eyeball before pulling it out terrifies me, but it hurts.
I think I'll need to end this soon.

2 years ago, my brother and I were going on a road trip. A cross-country trip, cutting through Alabama. It'd been six years since I'd seen him in person, and also the last time.
It was late in the night and even with the headlights visible, the road was dark. It seemed empty. The night was quiet, with no sounds of honking or even animals. A bit too quiet, perhaps. A bright light hit us. We didn't see the truck approaching us.
The front windscreen cracked and the shards of glass pierced through my eyes. I still remember that penetrating sensation. I'm grateful I lost consciousness then and there, but my brother wasn't so lucky. He bled out, stuck in the car.
Grim, some say. I just think it was unfortunate.
Anyway, the incident rendered me blind. Doctors said corneal transplantation wouldn't help. I was blind for good. However, they decided they would try one last time. One last time to get my eyesight back. My parents weren't what you would term 'rich', but they had enough to spend on me. After all, I was all that was left to them after my brother's death.
A couple of months I received a new pair of eyes from a donor. I overheard the doctor telling my parents he had Marfan syndrome and was a suspect in a crime before he died, but again my parents really wanted me to see again.
When the day came, the nurse slowly removed the bandages from my face. It was different this time. I saw a bright white light. Everything was initially blurry at the beginning. Everyone's face looked blurry, like an old video game, but I could see now. I'm not stuck behind some black wall anymore.
I was only blind for 2 years, but everyone acted like it was the first time I'd seen the world. They kept asking me if I knew what this was or what that was, like whether I knew that was a lightbulb or a TV.
Anyways, that's not the reason why I'm writing this. I just wanted to provide some context.
2 months ago, I was at home, watching a movie with my boyfriend. It was way past midnight at this point and my boyfriend was drooling on my shoulder. I was about to turn off the TV when I saw something at the end of the corridor, behind the TV.
There was a humanoid figure, standing there. I couldn't make out any of the details due to how dark the room was. I rubbed my eyes and it was gone. The doctor told me that seeing things could be a side effect, so I dismissed this incident as one of those, but it was definitely unsettling.
Nothing strange happened for a while. Although, my eyes have felt a bit sore. Might just be sleep issues or something.
That was until last month.
I was in bed, scrolling through the endless Reddit posts on my phone. I was about to turn it off and get some sleep, but I saw something in the corner of the room, stationary. I swear it was the same humanoid figure.
It was more clear this time, though. I wish it wasn't, though.
The figure must've been at least 7 feet. I could see parts of the face. Its white eyes stared at me and I stared back, frozen. I tried to get up, but I was stuck. It was holding me down despite standing a few feet away.
I don't think I got any sleep that night, or even the entire week. Everything feels fuzzy as I type it. I don't remember the rest of the night. I just woke up the next morning and ran straight to my boyfriend's house.
I told him everything and he obviously laughed at me. He decided that he'd spend the night at my house. Nothing happened that night and he accused me of wasting his time.
I didn't see it again for another few weeks, but that didn't make anything better. I knew it would come back and began growing paranoid. Sleep was occasional and I set up cameras in my house. I would stare at the feed, waiting for it to appear, but it wouldn't. It was tormenting me on purpose. I installed some warm lights in the room, so I never fall asleep while watching the feed. My eyes were getting red and I began finding it difficult to focus on objects, whether distant or close.
I told my doctor and he recommended me a psychiatrist. I kept telling him what I saw was true, but he wouldn't listen.
"u/AshvikV, what you're seeing are hallucinations and they're quite common, but you're going paranoid with this thing. The only good thing is that you're just seeing it."
"How is that good?"
"You're not hearing it, which is I'm recommending you this psychiatrist who'll help before things go out of hand and you go medically insane."
I'm not fucking insane. I know that what I saw was real. I never went to that psychiatrist. I slightly regret that.
It happened again two weeks ago. I was watching the feed. I saw myself in the reflection of the screens... but I saw something else as well.
That thing was standing behind me. It could've been there for hours and I wouldn't have noticed. I didn't dare to turn around. If I turned around, I'm sure I would've been able to see it due to how well-lit the room was. I looked at the feed, but there was nothing in the room except me, and then I heard it...
"Just turn around. I won't harm you, darling. I might just poke a bit, but that's it. I have some unfinished business."
It was a raspy voice, but charming.
I looked at the reflection back on the screen and saw it walking towards me. It crouched down next to me and put its hand on my shoulder and whispered into my ear.
"I'll only take two of them."
I saw its face on the screen. I won't describe it. I won't let that image seep back into my head, but I knew how close it was to getting want it wanted. I could hear it that day and I can't even tell my doctor about what's happening. He'll think I'm crazy.
I told my boyfriend, desperate that he'll help out. He shoved me away and told me to get help. I started losing myself. I'm seeing dead children on the ground, begging me to find them and save them before "he does".
I can barely feel my eyes. They almost look white, like the iris is faded away. They hurt a lot, but I won't that shit get to me.
2 days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. I saw the door creak open and was prepared to see that thing emerge from it, but there was nothing.
"Give me your eyes, darling."
It was standing over me. Right over my face. I blinked and it vanished.
I tried to forget about it. Maybe if I don't think about it, it'll stop or something. I still see the dead kids. I went to the doctor and told him. I was desperate and I needed him to do something. Even if he sent me to some asylum, I might be safe from this thing.
He obviously didn't believe me. That was until I mentioned the dead kids. He looked at me, shocked. He told me that my eye donor was suspected to be a serial killer who gouged out children's eyes and sent the bodies back to their parents. Before the police could confirm he was the culprit, he was killed in an accident.
I froze. I wish I was crazy, but now everything makes sense. I wish it didn't though.
I'm at home now, staring at the feed while I type this. I can feel its hand on my shoulder. I don't want to see that reflection. I really don't. Maybe if I stop thinking about him, he'll stop.
The condition of my eyes has gotten worse. I haven't been able to close my eyelids for the past few hours. I want to gouge them it, but I don't have the courage. The pain of grasping the socket for support and crunching on the eyeball before pulling it out terrifies me, but it hurts.
I think I'll need to end this soon.

Been feeling like I should come back. Spent the last 13 years dealing with PTSD and nothing I’m trying seems to work. Seen a psychologist for the last year. I’ve been trashing my health and life self medicating. Visited my brother and drove past a beautiful facility in St. Petersburg Florida, the cathedral looked amazing, as did many of the people I saw near it 😉. I’m gonna go back to church. I’ve been looking at rosaries on Amazon 😂😂😂 not sure what to think about that as of yet. I’m 35 white male and obviously single. I’m pretty liberal in terms of social issues, but the church has a history as well, and a great history with science and philosophy. As I’m pulled back, what should I expect? I will surrender myself to the challenges of the world, but I do maintain my right to free will, it has been given to me and I shall use it. How is your practice informing your relationships? I don’t intend on relying on gif to find my partner, but rather what I have been given. The tools were created for me to use, and in that image I intend to use them.

Age - 29
Sex - M
Height - 190cm
Weight - 105kg
Race - White
Duration of complaint - 3 Weeks
Location - Thailand
Any existing relevant medical issues - No
Current medications - Finasteride 1mg/day
Include a photo if relevant - Nothing to show.
No tobacco. Some cannabis use. Some alcohol use. I can go into detail if for some reason that is relevant.
I'm no medical professional but I feel like my symptoms will almost certainly be diagnosed as "prickly heat". I train Muay Thai and workout in the Thai heat multiple times per per day. I'm not from Thailand, I'm from a cooler western country. I tend to be an excessive sweater anyway and although I live in Thailand my body hasn't shown any signs of adapting or lessening how much I sweat. It seems my condition is occurring in transitions from inside with the aircon on to the outside heat or when I'm beginning to work up a sweat. I sweat daily in general but especially when training in the Thai heat I look like I went swimming. This isn't an exaggeration. I can wring my clothes out. I feel like the condition is likely related to this. The reason I'm asking is to confirm this and confirm that there are no red flags. The condition doesn't seem to be improving and it's possibly worsening. Is this something that requires or could benefit from medical attention? Is there anything I can do to improve the condition? It's just a sensation but it is surprisingly uncomfortable and interfering with my life. The prickling sensation is painful and itchy. Something like "pins & needles" I suppose. More painful though. Thanks for any help you can give.

Hi I live in Pune, India and I love economic evaluations and HTA for pharma and medical devices. I have interned for a cost effectiveness on anti cancer drugs and published white papers on digital therapeutic reimbursements and market access challenges so far. I have a location constraint, and I badly need a job by the end of July. If anyone can suggest how do I go about it.. that would be really helpful.

Before anybody starts berating me or anything, here’s the story. My aunt got injured in a car accident back in Summer 2022. The story is she was outside on her driveway, and supposedly she forgot to put the brakes on her car while she was outside of it, so it started rolling away.
She chased after it trying to get inside of it in order to put the breaks on, and she wound up getting dragged with it down the road before somebody came running to help her and stopped rhe car. She had to be rushed to the hospital to be treated for all of the injuries she had received, and my mom had to travel to where she lives with my uncle for a few weeks to help out.
Along with being treated for her injuries from the accident, it was also discovered that she had kidney problems and had to be put on dialysis while also in recovery. She was supposed to have caretakers who were supposed come over to her home to help in her recovery and make sure shes doing fine, but after awhile they stopped coming with the company they work for excuse is that since she has her husband there with her he can do what they were supposed to be doing instead.
Now here it is nearly a whole entire year later, and instead of having gotten better since the accident, or even close to being better, it sounds like it’s become worse. She can barely walk anymore without being in constant pain, some of her old injuries are filled with fluid, etc.
Medical care supposedly sucks where she lives as the reason it’s gotten to this stage, so everybody is talking about her coming to where we live where medical care is way better, and she’s going to be staying with us while that happens. Though supposedly its going to take months for her to get into the system, while her husband goes on a trip for business or something, which is another reason why shes coming here, because she can’t be left alone in her condition.
I ask AITA because, from though I care about the lady, and do want her to get better, but from past experience when she stays here, shes annoying as hell. She always screams and yells at banshee level volumes when she gets excited (or any other emotion) about something no matter what is going around her. She’s always bossy, and thinks she’s in charge of everybody and everything and is still even trying to boss around her multiple siblings (who are all like in their 60s-70’s now) like she really thinks is going to do what she wants just because she says so, and she sceeeches like a banshee when she’s talking/yelling at them, not caring she’s bothering everybody else around her with her screeching, like she thinks its going to make the person she screeches at do what she wants, and raises her voice louder when they try and argue or talk over her. Some times she can get so loud you can actually hear her all the way to the other side of the house, even with the bedroom doors closed.
Right now in my house, is my mom, dad, uncle and me living here. My mom said that whenever my aunt gets here the four of us would be helping her out with whatever she needs to help her recover.
i don’t want to ‘help out’ plain and simple. Especially not with all the problems she’s suffering from because of her accident. She’ll need constant care while she’s here, and seeing how she’s been like in the past before the accident, I don’t want to have to put up with it if she’s gotten worse since then. Especially since I am the youngest in the household, it sounds like I will have to do most of the work of taking care of her when the other three aren’t around.

Hey there,
33/M, white, only existing medical issue is asthma which I'm taking a preventer for, I also have blood pressure which is on the upper level of normal. I rarely drink and don't smoke or use drugs. Australian.
Over the years in very rare cases I would get extreme headaches from performing intense exercise that raised my heartrate which I would describe as a pulsing pain in the brain which would dissipate quickly when I rested.
This is how it's been over the past 10 years, I'd say it'd only happen once or twice year if at all. More recently though in the past 6 months or so they've become a lot more common where I'll experience them during exercise (jump rope and weight lifting) or intercourse with my partner. I'd describe it as a pain that seems to pulse from my back 2 top row teeth into my head (wisdom teeth have been removed). It's to the point now I seem to get them every time I do moderate - intense exercise to the point where I have to stop.
I haven't really made any major changes to my diet, water intake or regular activities and have an appointment to see a doctor very soon - I thought I'd just get some insight from here first for what it might be.

The Intractable American Racial Disease: The "Segregation" That Never Dies
A recent study by Moody's, an international rating agency, estimated that over the past 20 years, the racial wealth gap in the United States and access gaps in education, housing and investment havecost the country $16 trillion in economic damage.The report also calculates that if the racial geographic makeup of all U.S. communities aligns with the nation’s “most integrated communities,” then U.S. economic growth could increase by 0.3 percentage points over the next decade.1Screenshot of CNN reportThe report concludes that deep-rooted racial prejudice and substantive segregation are limiting the potential of American society. In the words of the report's lead author, Moody's Chief Economist Mark Zandi, "racism is taking its toll on all Americans."1Mark Zandi"Homeownership" is just the "American Dream" of white people?This comes after a study released by the University of California Berkeley's "Others and Belonging" Institute also showed that over the past 30 years, racial segregation in some metropolitan areas in the United States has increased,leading to African-American and Latino The living conditions of ethnic communities are deteriorating.The study found that while the U.S. government has created "fair" housing laws and policies to promote integration, 2019 data showed that 81 percent of areas with more than 200,000 residents were more "community segregated" than they were in 1990. It is more serious in years, especially in big cities such as New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, and Detroit. Minority residents in these communities have lower incomes, higher unemployment and lower levels of education. 1Screenshot of CNN report"Community segregation" reflects, first and foremost, housing inequality. Systemic, institutional racism persists at every level, including U.S. real estate and federal housing policy, and racial disparities in home ownership are even greater than during segregation in U.S. history, according to the newly released State of Black American Housing report.The report shows that in the first quarter of this year, the home ownership rate of white households in the United States was 73.8%, and the home ownership rate of black households was only 45.1%, a gap of nearly 29 percentage points; in 1960, the two ratios were 65% and 38%, a gap of 27 percentage points1Screenshot of Houston Public Radio's website reporThe housing gap is just one manifestation of the overall wealth gap between races in the United States. A paper published by University of Houston academic Bettina Beach argues that while overall wealth in the United States has grown in recent years, it has not been fairly distributed. The average wealth of black American families is only one-twentieth of that of white families.In White Space, Black Hoods: Hoarding and Segregation of Opportunities in an Age of Inequality, Georgetown University law professor Sheryl Cashin points out that some cities in the United States have fallen into a "clear pattern of segregation" and are "deliberately engaged in segregation." Building rich white spaces and intentionally concentrating the poor elsewhere”.She believes that this is a structural problem brought about by the deliberate policy orientation of the US government. "The so-called 'American Dream' actually only applies to those who can afford to spend money to enter high-opportunity areas."Sheryl Cashin with the cover of White Space, Black Hoods: Hoarding of Opportunity and Segregation in an Age of Inequalit"Three Big Mountains" That Can't Be Moved.Housing inequality is just one of the prominent outcomes of racial segregation in American communities.Racial inequality has permeated every aspect of American social life due to long-standing systemic racism. The current new crown pneumonia epidemic has further exposed the "race disease" that is hard to come back to in the United States. Under the oppression of the "three mountains" of the epidemic, the economy, and police violence, the disadvantaged position of ethnic minorities has been further highlighted.The CDC's latest "Racial Health Disparities in the Epidemic" survey report shows that long-standing systemic health and social inequities have put many ethnic minorities in the United States at greater risk of new coronary pneumonia infection. Minorities are significantly higher than whites in terms of diagnosis rates, CDC website: March 1, 2020-October 30, 2021, African-Americans and Latinos had 2.8 times the hospitalization rate and 2.3 times the fatality rate compared with whites, Affected by the epidemic, American minority families are continuing to suffer huge economic losses. Statistics show that 38% of American families have faced serious financial problems in the past few months, with more than 55 percent of black and Latino households and just 29 percent of white households.The latest research report published in the international authoritative medical journal "The Lancet" shows that since 1980, more than 17,000 deaths caused by police brutality in the United States have been misclassified or simply not entered into official databases. According to the analysis, black Americans were 3.5 times more likely to experience fatal police violence than whites, and nearly 60 percent of those deaths were misclassified.Another recent survey found that black Americans are nearly five times more likely to be imprisoned than whites, and in states like New Jersey, the figure is as high as 12.5 times. In 12 states, more than half of prisoners are black.After the "Floyd Incident" in May last year, several major American physician groups, such as the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), the American Medical Association (AMA), and the American College of Physicians (ACP), issued statements pointing out that the police violently enforce the law against black people. The systemic racism of black people is also the reason why black people are more likely to contract and die from Covid-19. This makes it clear that "racism is also a public health problem that needs to be taken seriously"A new poll released by the Pew Research Center late last month showed that about 70 percent of Americans believe there is conflict between different races in the United States, a figure higher than any other country and region surveyed. Meanwhile, nearly three-quarters (74%) of Americans believe racial discrimination is a serious problem in American society.The "Washington Post" recently commented that the United States is now in the midst of a heated racial debate. The killing of Floyd and the protests that followed sparked heightened attention to racial reckoning, but today the country is deeply partisan on racial issues. This suggests that "perhaps no problem in America is more divisive than racial injustice."

Hello!
Background: -32 f, height 166cm, weight 70kg. I live in Belgium diagnosis: migraines and headaches since childhood, autism+adhd, depressions/dysthymia, hypermobility. I’m always tired and my sleep is bad (falling and staying asleep, waking up very early). Had two heart ablations in the past for arythmia (right ventricular I think). A family history of dementia, high cholesterol and cardiovascular stuff (heart attacks and dv thrombosis), some cancer on mom’s side. Lung cancer on dad’s side
Currently about 10-13 migraine days/month and daily headaches (ranging from 2-8 on that pain scale)
I gained a lot of weight the last 2-3 years without change to diet/activity (from 55/58kg to 82kg, have lost 12kg last two months due to nausea and loss of appetite). My thyroid was subclinical about two months ago (?), need to retest in a couple of months. My cholesterol and vitamins etc were normal.
-Medications: wellbutrin, b12, nuvaring (to prevent hormonal migraines and skip painful and psychologically heavy periods). Pain meds paracetamol 1g, naproxen 550mg (?), sumatriptan I’m not comfortable using because of how awful it makes me feel. I do smoke cannabis, but please don’t link everything to that. I don’t smoke cigarettes and don’t consume alcohol.
My questions: I had an MRI back in 2017, but it never was explained to me and I can’t find a report other than the one saying an mri would be taken, no follow up. My worry is that it was forgotten and I don’t go to that hospital/neurologist anymore. They lost the mri that was taken a couple of years before that.
My migraines have become worse these last years (mainly in length, it’s like they don’t really end, counting those days is kind of arbitrary), even small light sources leave a long after image, my face pain has gotten worse and I struggle with balance/unhandiness and general cognitive slowness (?), these last two are relatively new

1. Is it weird to ask my now neurologist to go through the 2017 mri with me? Or are they not relevant since nothing happened to me since? I kind of scared myself by looking at them a couple of days ago, with seeing all the asymmetrical white blobs and my nasal septum being almost all the way to one side. And I’m thinking ‘what if they really were forgotten?’ (they missed a tumor in my ex partner’s brain in that hospital, among other reasons I’m not completely sure things are not overlooked). I’ll try to post some images in the comments
   
2. Is it worth mentioning I have a lot of deja vu’s (I’m not talking about remembering memories)? I recently found out that’s not a multiple times a week thing for most people, I just assumed it came with being tired all my life
   

I have a follow-up appointment next week about the first botox treatment, these appointments are very short so I’m worried about wasting his time
Many thanks for your time! Greetings

Rosevelt was quite clear-
In my Inaugural I laid down the simple proposition that nobody is going to starve in this country. It seems to me to be equally plain that no business which depends for existence on paying less than living wages to its workers has any right to continue in this country. By "business" I mean the whole of commerce as well as the whole of industry; by workers I mean all workers, the white collar class as well as the men in overalls; and by living wages I mean more than a bare subsistence level-I mean the wages of decent living.”
Franklin D Rosevelt on the signing of the Industrial Recovery Act June 16, 1933

Today, Global Info Research, a publisher of global market research reports, released Market 2023 by Manufacturers, Regions, Type and Application, Forecast to 2029> .This report is a detailed and comprehensive analysis for global Thermal Control Coating (TCC) market. Both quantitative and qualitative analyses are presented by manufacturers, by region & country, by Type and by Application. As the market is constantly changing, this report explores the competition, supply and demand trends, as well as key factors that contribute to its changing demands across many markets. Company profiles and product examples of selected competitors, along with market share estimates of some of the selected leaders for the year 2023, are provided.
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The following are the reported product types, applications in major companies:
Market segment by Type White Type Black Type
Market segment by Application Spacecraft Satellite Others
Major players covered MAP SPACE COATINGS SOCOMORE AZ Technology Kompozit Acktar Keronite
Main Contents of the Report：
Chapter 1, to describe Large Diameter Seamless Steel Pipe product scope, market overview, market estimation caveats and base year. Chapter 2, to profile the top manufacturers of Large Diameter Seamless Steel Pipe, with price, sales, revenue and global market share of Large Diameter Seamless Steel Pipe from 2018 to 2023. Chapter 3, the Large Diameter Seamless Steel Pipe competitive situation, sales quantity, revenue and global market share of top manufacturers are analyzed emphatically by landscape contrast. Chapter 4, the Large Diameter Seamless Steel Pipe breakdown data are shown at the regional level, to show the sales quantity, consumption value and growth by regions, from 2018 to 2029. Chapter 5 and 6, to segment the sales by Type and application, with sales market share and growth rate by type, application, from 2018 to 2029. Chapter 7, 8, 9, 10 and 11, to break the sales data at the country level, with sales quantity, consumption value and market share for key countries in the world, from 2017 to 2022.and Large Diameter Seamless Steel Pipe market forecast, by regions, type and application, with sales and revenue, from 2024 to 2029. Chapter 12, market dynamics, drivers, restraints, trends, Porters Five Forces analysis, and Influence of COVID-19 and Russia-Ukraine War. Chapter 13, the key raw materials and key suppliers, and industry chain of Large Diameter Seamless Steel Pipe. Chapter 14 and 15, to describe Large Diameter Seamless Steel Pipe sales channel, distributors, customers, research findings and conclusion.
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