My parents called from Spain. They are having a good time there, and I'm glad. I didn't tell mom I was ill, I've been lying to her for the last three weeks, but I don't want her to worry, until I'm sure there's really cause for alarm. She's the main reason I hope it's nothing serious. I don't think she would be able to deal, not so soon on the heels of my brother's revelations. Things between them are still so strained. I know that's why she misses me so much.
Headaches on top of everything got bad. When I collapsed because of the headache, Leanne, whom I cherish, called the doctor over, and she in turn sent me straight to the hospital for tests. As usual, they couldn't tell what the problem was, only what the problem was not. It's not diabetes or hypertension [yeah, team me] and it's not meningitis [my housemates will be happy to hear that one]. They haven't ruled out neurological causes and brain tumors, so I have to go back for CAT scans and other assorted fun. Can't wait. They left me some blood, and I was able to go home after eight hours of tests and general waiting around. Leanne held my hand throughout, bless her. As I was lying on a gurney, ostensibly not counting the ceiling tiles, I had an idea for a fic. It's about Faith. We'll see tomorrow.
I'm going to go lie down as soon as I'm done blogging, because to make this day absolutely perfect, I've now got cramps potent enough to drive an elephant to its knees and mood swings to scare the lower denizens of Hell. I hope I'm allowed at least one good night rest. When I left the hospital, the moon was full and red.
This blog isn't very uplifting. Why are you still reading this?