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While I’m feeling all right, I still have the fungal infection, so I still
can’t leave my apartment. I’m really super extremely very hoping that this is
all over by this weekend, so I can get back to doing my time, and finish my
current sentence before I die of old age. This is one of those days where I
have little to tell you, because not much interesting happened to me. The
nurse came last night to take my blood, and I got my results this morning.
She’ll come three more times this week, on Wednesday, and on Friday. After
that, if I’m still having trouble, I may be ordered to go to the hospital. I
mean the real hospital, not the prison medical ward. That would be really bad,
for myriad reasons, not the least of which is that it might ultimately mean my
death. If I were given such a terrible prognosis, I would probably start
punching the air, and screaming at the top of my lungs. That might seem random
to you, but I have two characters who can travel the bulkverse using those
methods. It would be my last hope. I mean, I could always try them now. Well,
I can try the punching thing. The screaming thing is different, because I
would have to be away from other people, but that’s not a bad idea. It may be
cathartic to let out some primal cries anyway, and hey, maybe it’ll work. A
part of me doesn’t want it to. Back when I first became immortal, I was also
learning that using people’s powers meant stealing it from them temporarily,
and I also knew that once I stopped using it, I would lose it, and I really
want that immortality back. I’m sick of being sick. But also, get me out of
this universe, and tell me where Cricket and Claire are! *screams primally*
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