Predictably, the stress took a toll on my health and yesterday when I offed to a lecture, the acid in my tummy kind of went on over-flow mode, causing me to get ill and during the night sort of melted my larynx, so I woke up with the mother of all laryngitis', tasting acid all the way up to my nose. I won't go into what happens when I use the restroom. My almost-healed-hemorrhoids are writing an official complaint to the management, starting with : WhatTheFuck?!

But I talked to the doctor today and although he's fed up with us completely, he was fair enough to explain it to me, one more time: I've told this to your father and your mother and will tell it again to you. He was admited with ....." and so on, he even subtitled some of the longer words. 

     I'd say: "But how do you know the an--"

     "We know by now which antibiotics are appropriate for his type of infection."

     "But why does he keep h--"

     "He will continue to get seizures until the infection subsides, though he is not running any fever and so we know it's not sepsis."

      "It's been going on for a week now."

      "It will last another month until he's back to normal."

      "He worried he'll have a heart attack."

      "He won't. If e did, his chest would hurt. But don't mention that, because his chest will instantly start to hurt."

...

And so on. It seems like the things have been calming down lately. Fine time for me to pass out. I had to pretend to be part of the study group during the lectures yesterday and I was so distracted and clueless some of the kids helped me.