Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body.

Perhaps y'all remember me mentioning a couple posts ago my bout with the plague, and the subsequent update about going on a second round of antibiotics.

Two days after I finished the second round of antibiotics, all my symptoms came back, growing progressively worse by the hour. If the pain in my throat and head had not gotten so severe, I probably would have just done like I always do and ignored the illness until either it went away by itself or it killed me. But when you have difficulty swallowing and breathing because your throat is so sore and swollen, that's kind of a problem.

I went back to the doctor. After not much of an examination, Doc (the THIRD doctor I had seen at this new place) was like "oh you just have allergies," and sent me on my merry way.

I know I am not allergic to the outdoors because the congestion actually gets a lot better if I am outside. I also know I am not allergic to my cats. With an allergy to something like spring or animals, the symptoms tend to improve a bit when you are nowhere near the source of said allergies.

My symptoms did not go away. Ever. They just got worse and worse every day that I continued to be ill. (it's been a f**king month like seriously)

As I contemplated that, a light bulb appeared in my increasingly fuzzy thoughts.

What causes allergy/severe cold-like symptoms that get progressively worse as time goes on, and symptoms that do not improve if you are away from the cause of those symptoms? You'd think I would have come to this conclusion earlier, as I have suffered this before.

MOLD.

I did a thorough search of the apartment. Lo and behold, the very back of the fireplace was pretty well covered in mold.

As of last Friday, I have been staying at Mum's because my health had deteriorated to the point where I needed to be within easy driving distance of a hospital, and also needed to be around people with access to vehicles in case I needed to get to said hospital. 

As of now (Wednesday) I am gradually getting better. I still spend most mornings having coughing fits and hacking up the mushroom colony that is likely growing in my lungs. Landlord has not only fixed the mold situation, they are also doing some kind of renovations to the side of the house to try and prevent that side of the house from getting so damp. I am hoping my symptoms will have fecked off by the weekend so I can move back home.

On the plus side, my proper doctor has given me vitamins* in both pill form and cough syrup form. It's good craic.

On the down side, since I am a walking biohazard, I have to miss the LGBTQ parade on Sunday. Our church is handing out cold beverages and snacks for free because it is hellishly hot out and anyone parading around in the sun is going to need it. Also we want to be an example of what Christianity SHOULD be about--love and acceptance for all, and not judging others. So if any of y'all happen to be in the Warwick, NY area this Sunday, there will be free food and drink at the Warwick Assembly of God.

Until next time.............

People incapable of guilt usually do have a good time.

Several years ago, it was customary in my group of friends to throw a surprise party whenever it was someone's birthday. (Something that always perplexed me, since everyone would then know for certain that their birthday would result in a surprise party, thus rendering said party not much of a surprise.)

My bff M's personality is such that when he gets it in his head to do something, or when he is annoyed about something, absolutely nothing can stop him from being as contrary as humanly possible.*

On his birthday this one year, for whatever reason, M felt like being extra contrary.

As I was his BFF, our friends decided it was my job to make sure he arrived at his sister's house at a certain time for his surprise party. M. and I hung out during the day, and then when evening came, I suggested we head over to his sister's place to meet up with a few other peeps and decide where to go for dinner.

M decided no, he did not like that plan, and instead he wanted to just go straight to Pizza Hut for dinner without anyone else. Since M was the one driving, I could do nothing but sit in the passenger seat and grow increasingly anxious about the fact that we would not be arriving at his sister's house when we were supposed to so everyone could surprise him for his birthday party.**

He knew that a surprise party awaited him. I tried. I really tried. I never said a word about it, but he knew. Five minutes after we were supposed to have been at his sister's house, she called him. He answered, and from what I gathered she told him he should come over so we could all go out to dinner together, but M. wasn't having any of it.

Then his sister's BFF called me and told me off for ruining everything, at which point I said you know there's really nothing I can do--M is driving.

We eventually met up with everyone else at his sister's house later on, although by then they were all less than enthusiastic about celebrating M.'s birthday. M. later admitted to me that he purposely did all of that to piss everyone off. For no reason other than he felt like it.

In other, sadder news, Rik Mayall has died. I'm very upset.

*Side story: I had a dream once that my friends and I went antique shop hopping out in the country somewhere, and all of a sudden the world turned apocalyptic. The apocalypse was headed straight for us (zombies, planes with bombs, etc.), and we all panicked and were like we need to run somewhere safe LIKE NOW. But M was admiring something in the antique shop, and could not be persuaded to leave. Like for reals, planes were bombing everything around us and we were all like WE NEED TO GET IN THE CAR AND FLOOR IT OUTTA HERE ASAP, but M would not abandon his shopping. This sums up his personality far better than any other description I could possibly give.

**In New Jersey, back when I was in high school, we took drivers' ed sophomore year and if you passed the written test at the end, you got your driving permit. I did not get my permit until several months after I turned 17 (my senior year) because I failed the written test twice. As a result, M was usually the one driving when we hung out. And as a result of his nature, I was late home 9 times out of 10 and would thus be grounded for the next month.