I’ve chronicled my ongoing battle with my pancreas over the last two years on this blog and, really, what series of legendary stories is complete without becoming a trilogy. Apparently the bile pumping bastard is still entirely unsatisfied with the high stress nature of my work and the piss poor quality of the subpar fast food garbage that I eat, so much so that over the weekend he hobbled me and left me for dead inmy room. But I bounced back like a champion and, after a day of liquid diet thought that I was safe. Oh, my friends, have I been wrong. In trueman fashion I’m refusing to visit a doctor until its absolutely necessary. I have no desire to listen to some 26 year old, over privileged frat boy label me an alcoholi and claim my problem is alcohol induced when I’ve been tea total for over 3 years. Nor can I really afford another medical bill.
So, should I resolve the problem on my own, it’ll be lesson learned and a nice little rant on my blog. If not,get ready for the medicinally fueled hilarity of another hospital stay post.
In all seriousness, to my pancreas, fuck you, bro. I thought we were cool?