||[Jan. 4th, 2007|10:16 pm]
shazgirl came home from work early the other day. She'd been struggling to get through the day because she was upset. Not about the My Sexuality post and poll, that doesn't bother her at all.
No, she's been watching my health get worse, and it all caught up with her for the first time yesterday. How I'm getting worse, the concern that she may lose me, or that I may end up in a helpless state. Part of her upset was based around how I'd feel, if I got really, really bad. As I said to her, you know what I'm like, I could end up like Stephen Hawking, and still find a way to have a good time, even if it was only by deliberately running over people's toes.
Major friggin' GGRRRRRRrrrrrrrr...
Most of the time I'm fairly pragmatic about what's going on. Nothing I do seems to make a lick of difference, and so far the doctors are stumped. So, apart from the occasional meltdown, I take it on the chin, shrug, and get on with what little I can manage, no matter how minor a task that may be. Getting upset or angry at a virus, condition, whatever it is, is not likely to help me.
But this fucking thing has upset my wife now. And I am so very, very cross at it.