I am a collector.
I wish I could say that I was a collector of vintage jewelry, fine wines, or antique gadgets, but alas, it is not that glamorous.
I am a collector of auto-immune diseases.
I am now up to three.
If I were looking at the glass as half-full, I would say, "Well self, you have a good eye for collecting." (Only 1 good eye though. The other has a scar across the pupil. Kind of worthless. Except it balances my face out.)
Right now my half-full glass is lying on the kitchen floor, not shattered, but slightly chipped. I'm down, but not out.
Okay, a little out. The latest disease process requires a low-dose chemotherapy treatment. (I do NOT have cancer. Promise.)
Which makes me a little sick and tired.
The four pages that came with my "therapy" pills left my mind reeling with all of the warnings. All of which followed the first.
This product could cause death.
Anything that isn't death would fall into the glass is half-full category. At least for me.
I'm not looking for sympathy, I just felt the need to share why I've been a little absent from blog-land. Life is always busy, but now when I have a moment to relax, I do it behind closed eyelids. And with the Christmas season upon us, closing my eyes may be a luxury that will have to wait until the New Year.
Except by then, I plan on being completely healed.