On Friday I went to the clinic because this whole not-eating thing was entering into its fourth day and usually my body’s needs collapses in on itself long enough for me to eat through the upset stomach. I was put back on Doxylamine and today I had long stretches when I was neither hungry or sick. Success!

At the clinic a mother and her child were treated so rudely by the staff as to whether or not she could keep her child out in the open space outside the waiting room that I went out and told her that I was going to give her my spot so that when her name was called, I’d be able to get her myself. There were other kids in the waiting room, but her little girl looked to be too young to explain why they were waiting so long and too old not to understand why they were waiting.

I’d only just arrived and it moved her spot up a whopping four out of twenty-two people in line, but at least I could go and get them when the person before them was called.

The older doctor was so fantastic. I felt engaged in my health care and while I was waiting (only an extra 30 minutes, it wasn’t a massive strike against treating people fairly) I managed to write 8-9 pages of the Xmas Matt and Kevin.

Then when we got home I started my Ren’s Christmas Carol story last night and after an amazing afternoon talking about nothing but writing, and I just got past the ghost of Christmas Future. Which, I don’t know about you all, but whenever the movies flashed to the ghost, I was freaking terrified. Needless to say, the ghost of Christmas Future was suitably creepy and I moved a dead mouse’s body. Good job, body! Thanks for not screaming and jumping up on the bed when it rolled to your feet. I know you wanted to. Thanks for just picking up the mouse like it was no big thing while my brain was freaking the fuck out.