18 August 2003 - 11:49 a.m.

Please, make it stop.

I've had this cold for days now, and it never gets better or worse. I feel like there are sheep camping behind my nose and around my throat.

I've never been much for healing. Did I ever tell you abou the time I got a headache and it lasted six months?

I expected to die, or for the pain to get worse, or to build up a tolerance to painkillers or something.

But, no, six months of otherwise fine health, steady pain, and two aspirin every eight hours.

10 a.m., 6 p.m., and 2 a.m. You don't forget these things.

Then, one day, it went away.

Before that, I coughed blood for three years. I still do, but not every day, so I consider my consumptive period over.

Not that it was an actual consumptive period, since I got a TB test at least once a year, and chest X-rays and crap, but nothing ever showed up. Then I stopped coughing, and all was well until the headache came.

So I'm guessing I'll have another MA by the time I can breathe again.

I don't really know what to say about my health, because it isn't technically bad, but I always have some dumb damn thing wrong with me. I feel like on of those pale, bird-boned supporting characters in a Victorian novel whose health is "delicate."

But delicate health is bullshit. It's all a result of poor medical technology and no heat and corsets and stuff that doesn't apply to me. It's for women who want to get married but can't find husbands, or are like, too angelic to live.

No way am I virtuous enough for delicate health.

At least I finally have insurance now. Thanks, Dad.

I'ma go write some letters.

What I'm wearing: Very un-JP sick attire.

What I'm reading: The cat whining about something or other.

What I'm doing after this: Hoping I can find stamps without leaving the house.