What I said below about not posting until next year. I think the opposite's going to happen. This is probably not a surprise to my lovely regulars, but there you go. The last couple of weeks have been, shall we say, a little fucking stressful. In the same way that nuclear weapons make quite a loud noise. I feel like warmed-through shit, as I have for the last couple of months. Thing is, I know why now. It has nothing to do with the old Guillain-Barre shit, or any previous illness, and unless the docs hadn't been looking at something entirely unrelated through an ultrasound, I'd probably still be none the fucking wiser, and that in and of itself is fucking frightening. Yes, I know I haven't spelt out what it is, and I'm not sure I'm ready to just yet*. This is new to me, and it's bloody scary, and I'm still finding it somewhat freaky just thinking about being in this position and I don't know how to deal with this fucker yet. Fortunately, although this is probably more dangerous than GB, it's treatable and its progression is completely known, and I will get better, so there's a lot less of the genuinely terrifying staring into the fucking abyss whilst playing cards with Death in a game whose rules you don't know that came with GB's initial stages.
So there you go. Right now the morphine and it's cousins are keeping the pain at bay, and my friends are, in the main, being pretty fantastic. I'm not going to say anymore today, mainly because I don't want to upset myself, but you can guarantee I'll go off like a supercritical reactor in the next few days
*If you want to email me, I'll happily tell you all about it, I just can't do it publicly yet, simply because I'm still in a state of shock.