ramblings of a miserable nature

The past two days I have attempted to write a blog, I've started writing - then forgot, wandered off - came back and I.E has crashed, and despite claiming to ''save now'', it never actually saves and I can never be bothered re-writing what I'd previously wrote.

Last night I was running a temperature of 38/39C, felt dreadful, woozy and sickly. I woke up today feeling that I had hangover, the most awful hangover ever. My temperature has been spiking up and down during the day, and I'm presuming - as the symptoms match with before - that I have an infection, probably in my gall bladder that is annoying my liver. Whenever I wake up feeling like I'm two litres of Vodka worse for wear, something is wrong with my liver. My liver doesn't work at the best of times, and for the past 4 years has never had a healthy result when bloodwork is done. It is always in the ''red'' area, but apparently not bad enough to cause extreme long term damage. So my GP tells me. Because if I was going to suffer severe long term damage, they would have to operate immediatly, but it's not quite bad enough - yet.

I've had liver failure due to infection before, and I feel remarkably calm that it will probably happen again. It wasn't that bad the first time round. I was in high dependency, and my parents and the Doctors were seriously worried, but I wasn't. I felt fine, well not fine, but I didn't feel all that bad.

Anyways, I've just changed my patch, so I'm hoping for a painfree evening. The last day of a patch is always hell, and I hurt so much yesterday. All I want is for to feel the narcotics taking away the aches, the tension then putting me to sleep. I haven't slept well in a few days now, and when I have slept I've had nightmares. My Dad says the nightmares are probably caused by the drugs. But I'm also really worried at the moment about the medical, so I think it's probably that.

I'm still pretty miserable - two days ago I was in a mood that suicide, while I could never do it, I almost wished I could. I don't know why I was so miserable, or where the thoughts were coming from, but I was sore and I couldn't see that life would ever improve. That here I am at 26, stuck with my parents, living on high level painkillers and unable to do anything. It depresses me more than anything. I try to be happy and love what I have, but then I know that people my age have careers, they have children, they have homes. And I've spent my entire 20s near enough as a junkie slave to my gall bladder.

Argh. It makes me want to roll over and die. But the drugs are beginning to work now, I'll probably pass out soon, as is the way. Maybe I'll wake up happier and not wishing I had the ability to overdose and call it a day.