May I

I like this journal. It seems clean... untainted. The other blog was where I "met" the cunt who destroyed my life. Fine, I'll rephrase that... My trusting her was what directly led to my life to blowing up in my face. I'll not rephrase that she's a cunt though. That, she truly is.

I had a "flare up" in March. Spent some time in the hospital... some time in a wheelchair. I'm using a cane now. It'd be suave, if it wasn't so damn necessary.

It's May again. That's when the trouble started last year. I hope that this year I can, at least, hold onto what I have. I have a few boxes of stuff left, a roof and a bed (borrowed as that may be), and a little bit of unscarred brain which I can sometimes make work for me.

For the next 24 hours or so, I have to piss into a plastic jug, so that the docs can check my adrenals. This should be fun. Not.