I kind of know how dogs feel.. Especially dogs that live in pleasant houses with pleasant owners..
As like a dog I sleep, I go for the odd walk around the block, then I come home and sleep again. I guess the only difference is I don’t shit in public, I don’t hump inanimate objects and I don’t sniff ass.
When I’m awake I’m consumed with déjà vu.. This often indicates a seizure is pending.. But not always.
Being on the edge of a seizure is goddamn fucking frustrating because you just wanna get it out.. It’s like being on the edge of a sneeze or an orgasm.. But you can’t quite make it happen.
Conveniently it appears I’ve become allergic to housework. I was dusting yesterday when things got trippy and Brad Pitt appeared on the sofa.. Which made my face tingle.. At least it was only my face.
The seizure ran its course, then ended with the acrid smell and taste before I was transported back to reality.
Obvs I can’t carry on seeing Brad lounging on my settee so a swift visit to my neuro and an increase of cocktails should put a stop to it. I won’t think of myself as overly medicated.. Just pharmaceutically fabulous!
I also met my oncologist.. A charming man but not sure he appreciated my humour. Although after we’d played a game of funny bone smacking and feet tickling I’m pretty sure we bonded.
Next up is a radiography consult.. But in the meantime I’m wallowing in the delight of one of my perfectly darling oldest besties here to look after me.. She’s already demonstrated the best way to have ‘lazy sick person sex’.
Instructions to follow.