Six months ago today my life was ruined for always and forever.
I'm sicker than I was then, but better than I was just two weeks later.
Everyday I hate my life, and let me tell you, the people who are paid to help me get on with my life certainly aren't helping.
I see my neurologist on Monday. More bad news? Probably.
10 days-ish on Wellbutrin and I have more energy but still want to die. July will bring another round of mitoxantrone.
If you are my friend and you are in Vancouver, missing my birthday party on July 11 without good excuse (working, out of town, death in family, your own death) will lead to a pox being cursed upon your house.
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