It’s been seething, growing, this anger and frustration – for days, maybe weeks. I feel the pressure behind my eyes as the tears well up, I have given up the fight to maintain a false smile. I look around the room and really, there isn’t too much to pack. Clothes, books, my bows – a scattered few other things and all the herbs. I fight the urge to run away, break free from this place of disease and death, put false tags on my motorhome and just go. Move. LIVE. See and laugh with my beautiful family of freaks, rid myself of this oppressive, suffocating weight in my heart. My Dr. is finally back from Tanzania & I have an appoint with him tomorrow. I love him dearly, & for a while in the past, when I was on Interferon considered him my sole and only friend – but that was mostly the interferon, and I hated everyone & their false promises, their lies, I hated everyone who never called… but that was then. Mostly. We’ll see what he says tomorrow – probably going to push for a transplant again and I’ll refuse, as he is dreadfully stuck in his Western Medicine Ways… Need to get ready for another appointment now, then when that’s done crawl back into my broken bed and sleep through the pain as much as I can, hopefully dream that I’m somewhere else – anywhere but here.