May 13

And then I got sick.

I’m actually a very good sick person — no matter how lousy I feel, I tend to hold it together pretty well, but this time around, that was pretty hard to do even before I went to the doctor: I was dozing off unintentionally, feverish enough that I could hear myself talking to myself and being pretty much unable to stop it, and had apparently taken up vomiting as a favored new pastime. But then I went to the doctor, and he said “I think you should actually go to the emergency room, they can run tests in a far quicker way than we can here, and if it’s what I think it could be, it’s important that we find out as soon as possible.” Which is, to be fair, pretty much the least exciting thing you want to hear a doctor say to you.

Spoilers: it wasn’t the bad thing. Instead, I’ve got enteritis, which is an infection. A horrible infection, sure, but at least infections can clear up and aren’t going to require surgery or months/years of treatment (Other options brought up included my colon failing and/or kidney stones). The past few days have been the opposite of fun, but they have made me have an all-new affection for the small things: Being able to go to the toilet, for example. Or eating.

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