flocon98

7:47 a.m. My sweet dozing is interrupted by first notes of "Asterix et Obelix - Générique Debut". My phone's ringing. Still half asleep I grab the blinking one (I have two phones) and see that Luky's mum is calling. That's not good so early. That means something is wrong. She doesn't usually call me during her work hours. "Hi, yesterday I had to visit the ER because I had big stomach problems and I'm in the hospital now. Can you tell me what "pathological growth" means?" If she took a bucket of icy cold water and splashed me from head to toe, she wouldn't start my mind up faster. By the moment she reaches the question mark, I'm

Maybe half an hour after posting the last journal about how everything seems to be OK for at least a couple of days I received bad news yet again - this time it's not kidney problem, this time it's something seriously wrong with digestion. So seriously wrong that it will require a risky examination and inevitably a surgery. Possibly even riskier given other circumstances. And if it wasn't serious enough, it looks like it will involve the hospital I really, really don't like - the hospital where my father died last year. I wasn't particularly in love with this place before but now I am grateful for every afternoon I don't have to spend there.

The recent attack of my anxiety disorder left me scratching my head and thinking how the hell could I live with that beast in me for maybe sixteen years and some more months, because I could track it to the time I was eleven and even younger. Yeah, I was not in contact with the stressor causing it and suddenly I was thrown into it with full force and head-first. It was a shame that I could not predict this, because I always thought that it would be a problem for me if someone near me would be in danger of having some serious problems with kidneys and/or urinary tract. And now a person who is dear to me was in a suspicion of kidney cancer. It