Sunny Malta...

I dreamed I was in Malta, with Dunnett people, including Lyn, who bought hardware there. One of our companions had super-powers. I was looking for rosiespark, who'd gone missing - probably because I haven't seen her online for a while.

In the dream, though I didn't go so far as to inject gall bladder surgery, I knew I couldn't eat. I absent-mindedly took a bite of a delicious ginger cookie, then had to spit it out and wash my mouth, because I knew eating would cause unspeakable pain.

Why'd my brain have to get realistic? I would have enjoyed that dream cookie.

In Malta.

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Waiting for the Procedure...

Another Doctor was in to press my abdomen this morning. I have forgotten her name already. I think she's Doctor #6. What happened to Tang and Yang?

She said that the Procedure-that-isn't-quite-surgery today will determine whether they need to remove my gall bladder.

And all I could think was: I need to go back to work! How long will this take?

I feel as if I'm letting down the CCA, when I wanted to prove how reliable & hard-working I am.

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Not going home...

There's a chance I might be able to get my gall bladder removed tonight. Or tomorrow. It's worth sticking around for. Doctor #8 (ilana Weintraub) recommended it. It's like gambling: will they have time and resources to squeeze me in? Maybe, maybe not.

Even though it means I can't drink or eat and I feel as if I'm shrivelling up like a freeze-dried mushroom.

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