It’s been a long day. Missed work, again, and went to the doctor’s. We had a little chat, my veins were pumped full of some fiery solution, and I passed through the hole of a giant, white donut several times. It turns out my gallbladder has been planning an assault, but my pancreas is fine. Oh yes, and the stone in my gallbladder doesn’t account for my symptoms and I need more tests. Whoopi. Nevertheless, I am grateful I did not have to go into surgery today.
Anyway, I am exhausted, most likely dehydrated, from the last few days, am still feeling rather unwell, and my personal computer is on the frits. I think that’s . . .
. . . Oh yes. My dog might need surgery, an uncle may be dying, and . . . and . . .
And there is, of course, no end to my complaints. However, though miserable, I am also happy. I am alive. I can still write. I may have been trembling on the bathroom floor the other day, holding onto the commode like a drowning man holds onto a bit of floating timber, but today has been much more dignified.
There is tomorrow, and the day after. Who knows what the sunrise will bring.
Looking at my arms, probably more sunburn.