When I'm done, they will schedule my Thursday appointment.

On Thursday, I will go down there. They will knock me out, and... take care of things. By Thursday evening I will be cramping, but much less queasy.

Things are finally Getting Taken Care Of. Things are Getting Done.

Grr is pointing out that I Need To Call Social Security Disability Services.

Spent the last day being violently ill - today I've kept food down, and meds. I feel a bit better. It works better. It being my body. I think. I will think less, soon - medication and reading and planning my day. Or what's left of it, anyway.

I want Spike to show up at the door with the sparkling cider that Darren's gonna replace - yes, I'm not upset at Darren any more, my evil-bitch-on-hormones mood is fading slightly - and maybe some chocolate. I want him and I to curl up on the bed with Grr, and snuggle her and each other until she falls asleep, then snuggle each other and talk about random things in quiet voices until Grr wakes up again.

I want Kadin, or Torian, or Caleb, to fly in and come cuddle, being all sweet and supportive and just a bit depressed themselves, so I can concentrate on cheering them up, which often cheers me up too.

I want Alex or Drake to arrive unexpectedly, and pet me and say nice, if disturbing, things, and make everything feel ok again.

I want it to rain.

I want to masturbate.

It's a long, lazy day for me. This is not a bad thing. At least it's not so damned HOT today.