I'm not sure I deserve you guys, but...

. . . But I'm sure glad that you're all around.

Yesterday was my birthday, and I have to admit, I wasn't exactly stoked about it. I woke up and had one of those moments of "Oh God, I'm 31 and what am I doing with my life?" And I just sort of felt generally in a funk, because I've reached that point where birthdays are not such a great thing anymore, at least in my opinion.

Michelle made me a wonderful breakfast omelet, which was tasty, and even though I put on a brave face, I just wasn't feeling it.

A trip to Fry's helped, and she bought me a brand new 19" flat screen monitor. So the shiny, colorful luminosity started to brighten my day. But then I went and finished The Deathly Hallows along about 5 o'clock or so. Now, I really loved the book, as I have all of the HP series. And it didn't disappoint at all. I mean, Rowling is not the greatest writer ever, but she weaves a compelling tale and I was thoroughly entranced.

But as always, I feel a bit melancholy when I finish a good book because it means an adventure is over. Oh I know that I can go back and re-read it and enjoy it again, but it's never like the first time. So I had sort of slumped back into my funk again.

Now, I knew that Michelle and made dinner reservations for us somewhere, and I got a hint that there might be at least one other person joining us. So we hustled downtown and sidled up to Lambert's, an interesting new (I think) upscale BBQ place down on 2nd street. On the way, Lynn and George show up, and I think wow, that was nice of them. And when we get to the restaurant, there's Babs. But then I realize that we're sitting at a pretty big table. Well, before long, here comes Dipu, and then JoAnn and Nate, and before I know it, I'm surrounded by good friends, munching on some tasty jalapeño sausage and all my funk has gone right out of the window.

All these wonderful people, and they take the time out of their weekend to come share a meal with me. I still wonder sometimes how I continue to be so lucky and meet such fantastic folks as I wander aimlessly through my life.

I grew up without alot of friends around, and so it is a consistent and constant joy to me to know that all over this city, and all over this country, there are incredible men and women who would consider me a friend. I hope that they all know that even though I don't communicate with them nearly enough, and I often retreat back into my own little world and seem to ignore them, that they always are in my heart and my thoughts. And I hope they know that if they ever need a hand, they can call on me any time, day or night.

You all know who you are. And you're the best!

It's not a tumah

. . . or hep A or Mono or IBS, at least not according to the GI specialist.

Apparently, I just picked up some kind of virus resulting in gastroenteritis. Unpleasant, utterly ruinous to a vacation, but nothing permanent.

I'm starting to feel better now, although my stomach is a little wonky. The combination of actually recovering from the illness and having a specialist confirm that I'm not on my way out has much improved my outlook on life and all.

I really appreciate everyone's concern. And I appreciate the Tahoe crew's patience with my wussiness in the mountains. I'm well on my way to being the old me, at least for now. With my recent history, there's no telling what kind of screwed up illness will hit me next. I guess that's life, huh?

By the way, I've managed to write a few pages of chapter three of The Red Dragoon. Hopefully the rest should be up soon. I'm introducing the ass-kicking female lead. Should be good.

TTFN,
MST

The dangers of WebMD

I must not look. I must stay away.

There is a wonderful tool out there on the web, but it is dangerous as well; dangerous to my psyche, that is.

I'm addicted to WebMD.

WebMD is a great site full of good information. It's really good when you need information about a specific illness. You can get information about the causes, the symptoms, treatments, and information about how to live with a chronic illness.

It's awesome, if, and only if, you actually HAVE the illness you're looking up.

But for someone like me, it's a disaster. Now, I wouldn't classify myself as a full-blown hypochondriac, but I definitely the kind of person who will look at a list of symptoms and think to myself "Hey, that sounds like something I might have." And then it begins. I start to worry about it. I start to check my pulse. I start to check my temperature. I start looking at my pupils in the mirror. I start poking myself in different parts of my body to see what it feels like.

I start to try and self-diagnose. It's an ugly thing.

As most of you know, I've been pretty sick the last week and half or so. It almost completely ruined my vacation, and I don't really seem to be getting much better. I went to the doctor, and he's done a bunch of tests, but he doesn't really have any answers yet. And I'm going to see a GI specialist, the same one who diagnosed my gall bladder, but that's not until tomorrow afternoon.

In the mean time, I have roaming hands, an unsettled brain, and an active internet connection. So I've been reading. I've been looking at symptom lists. I've been thinking about all the possibilities, and I've been driving myself nuts.

In the last 48 hours, I've diagnosed myself with Mono, Hepatitis A, various parasitic infestations and, most recently, I'm convinced that I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome, a mostly harmless but annoying chronic illness.

Now, do I actually have any of these illnesses? Chances are, no. But in the absence of good information, my brain turns into a 24-hour news channel. Lots of time to kill and very little real information to report.

So for all of you who have been asking about me, let me tell you now: I'm dying. Granted, it's a very slow process and the end may not come for another 50 or 60 years, but it's inevitable. So just prepare yourselves. The end is nigh...