The one good thing about this past week is that I'm no longer blowing myself across time and space (that means: no farting). I was squeaking when I was walking-it was, I suppose, hilarious. At least I didn't have what I've been calling for years an SBD (Silent But Deadly),
The problem has been the fact that I've done nothing but eat, sleep, wee and poop. I might as well have been a dog. There isn't even anyone to come and scratch my ears...
Easter is this weekend, so nobody seems to be doing anything over at the hospital. I've heard nothing from anyone-except the immunologist, who told me last week that more tests are going to be done. More tests! They are really clueless as to what is causing all this weight loss. My friends are telling me that I have the ideal opportunity to eat whatever I want, as much as I want, and not worry about losing weight. Huh.
If I lose more weight, I won't have to open any doors; I can just slide under them.
Tomorrow I get weighed. It's infusion day, so I'll find out what other surprises are in store for me. I just have to accept that I'm at the mercy of doctors who are clueless. Maybe I'll be one of those people with something so extraordinary, so very weird, that it'll be written about in medical books. As long as it isn't posthumous, I don't care. I told them to fix it.
So here we are at Easter. I've bought my Lindt chocolate Easter bunny, as I do every year-I might even splash out on a large Easter egg. Oohhh, all those calories! Who cares?
Happy Easter, all. Eat, drink plenty of wine or whatever, and don't count the calories. It's Easter. Calories don't count.
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