Bad and scary things

Mr. M has been sick and getting sicker since early April. The only days he hasn't puked are days he didn't eat. He has been in the hospital this week and surgery is planned. I don't know the details because we only talked for about 45 seconds before he had to throw up again.

He's been expecting to have a transplant in August. I've been hopeful for him. If things go right, his ordeal of more than nine years will finally be over and he will have a chance to have a normal life. And, by extension, we will have a shot at having a normal relationship, or relatively normal, considering what a couple of oddballs we are.

I'm still hopeful, but I'm scared, too. I can't stand the thought of him alone in the hospital, though I know when you're that sick sometimes you can't stand to be around anyone.

In the meantime, I'm hobbling around but I can't move my toes much and I worry I really did hurt myself. My mother said she would come down and take care of me if I had to be on crutches, but I think an extended period in this neighborhood would scare her to death.

And I have a week and a half of classes left before exams.

The psychopath sent me a couple more emails a few weeks ago. I ignored them and he went away, but I worry he'll be back. I had a nightmare about him stalking me and trying to rape me or abduct me or something. I woke up thinking I should call Bellsouth and request to be unlisted before they print new phonebooks. I don't think he can get my number from information if he doesn't know my address, but I might be wrong about that and anyway if I'm in the phonebook he can get both. Good thing phonebooks are so forgotten in the internet age.

I'm a wreck. Actually it's a wonder I'm not more of a wreck. Wellbutrin is wonderful.

There was an article in the paper today about how so many water pipes broke during and after the storm that the city water system is leaking more water than residents are using. It seems a metaphor for something I haven't got the cognitive skills to explain right now.