So, I just got back from the doctor, where I finally went after my stomach has been bothering me for two weeks. He seemed to think, it's merely some sort of acid overdose (no, not that type) and gave me some pills to calm everything down. I immediately ate one upon getting home, ate a sandwich, got an upset stomach, and well, you can guess what follows. Anyways, I feel better now. Doc seems to think it will take a couple weeks to work itself out. As he said, "Well, you're looking like you lost some weight. I wish I could take off a few pounds myself." Trust me, it hasn't been worth it... or has it?
Anyhow, when I got back, I was browsing through Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer, as I've promised myself to do this summer and came across this passage, "If we go to Borneo, I won't have hemorrhoids any more. Maybe I'll develop something else . . . something worse . . . fever perhaps . . . or cholera. Shit, it's better to die of a good disease like that than to piss your life away on a newspaper with grapes up your ass and buttons falling off your pants."
I think I can relate.