Well, today was an interesting day. I offed to the clinic in early morning and hadn't left hospital grounds until two in the afternoon.

First was my after-antibiotics check-up – that treatment is finally over and I can now get normal functioning intestine and other fun places back. Man, those were killers! They instantly melted any sugar in any food I ate and I had to suffer sugar withdrawals all day, while my stomach growled and I shook like a junky.

G went to his doctor because his ankle was still sore, and sent me a text: I'm in the emergency room. This is always a great way to start a conversation. Once I was done with peeing in a cup (ALWAYS a nightmare for me, I am just not designed for that kind of acrobatic achievements), I hurried to the ER to find out what the fuck happened now. As it turns out, they didn't think his ankle is sore at all, they thought it's been well broken for a week and the fucking idiot insisted it's nothing. So, they took x-rays, found old fracture and put a cast on him. He had to lie down for an hour for the cast to dry, but after that they forgot to give him any crutches and just told him to find a doctor and deal with it. I just ran to the closest medical store and bought some, even though the longest ones are still kind of short for him. But at least he managed to get home – you would not believe how long the halls and streets are if you’re hardly able to walk properly - and then slept for the better part of the day. I went right back to my doctor to get the test result, but they weren't in yet, so I went home to sleep as well.

Shit. We had plans to go see Blade Runner 2.0 this week. :/

It was the weekend that threw me. I'm distracted with my own shit. Normally, I would not tolerate him pretending everything is fine while he sweated up the stairs. I'd be all over him on the start of the third day. But then Friday came and the weekend and we figured it wasn't so bad because mostly we just chilled at home.

Annoying stubborn motherfucker. Made of porcelain.