What am I going to do in three months when I can't cure my ails with days like this? I do love to be in the ocean, truly, but nothing revives like a PNW river.
We had a heart to heart last night, H.K. and I. He's scared, which puts the situation in a startling new light for me. The process of decay is not easy to hide, nor do I consistently give it my best effort in front of H.K., poor thing. It was necessary for him to express his worry, I think, for me to remove myself from brooding and take initiative (read: wait more optimistically for my GI appt. at the end of May). This is not an unbeatable foe; it requires only the cooperation of my physicians and a plan of attack that can be undertaken successfully within three months, because hell if I'm going to be thrown back into the darkness of 2009 before the move south... and hell if it's going to make me put off school for another year. It's hard to keep in mind that I'm not a unique scenario, just another serenader... on lots of antibiotics.
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