So, it's been a year since I discovered I've got a fucked-up liver. So far, my health has improved, some strength has been regained, but the damage has been done. Basically, I'm still dying very slowly. Actually we all are, I just got a head start. But I wouldn't have survived this difficult year if it weren't for good doctors, good friends, strength of spirit, sheer luck, and some magic. I'm still grateful.
I'm actually fighting my battles on two fronts: one in the gut and one in the mind, which is a far more difficult enemy. I DO appreciate the words of encouragement, but when you have this kind of shit, one would prefer honesty over reassurance. Empathy over sympathy. I believe and I know that you have nothing but good intentions when...
