Atrocity.

"So why weren't you weaned off of them?"

It's a question that pretty much everyone has asked me over the past few days. Friends, family, strangers. In fact, I could go round to my neighbour's house and tell his five-year-old son about the past few days and he'd likely pipe up with the same enquiry. Because it's only bloody common sense you know. Why on earth do my guardian angels stationed at the Oxford Churchill insist on ripping me off steroid dosage WHEN IT CAUSES SO MUCH GOD DAMN GRIEF?

And I'm not talking about a day or two of discomfort here. Readers, I can inform you with the utmost confidence that the last three days have been absolute physical torture. When I signed off my last entry about once again yearning for steroids, it was posted very much with tongue in cheek. But you have no idea what absolute horrors I've had to endure since Wednesday. I mean, how can I put this exactly? ARRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH. OOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW. EEAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGH. That about covers it. My legs have been rendered useless. My right arm cannot be moved without the sensation that it might in fact snap off. And I have such abdominal pains that I can't eat a single quaver without feeling like I'm going to have a heart attack. It has truly sucked.

So the good folks at the hospital aren't exactly my favourites right now. But on the plus side, my body finally seems to be adapting to the shock of withdrawal and I'm slowly feeling a lot more human, mostly thanks to two baths a day and copious amounts of 'pro plus'. Oh, and today saw a new addition to the family that has cheered me up no end...



PUPPY.

She's incredible. And not dead, despite what the picture might suggest. Everything you could ever want in a seven week old mut, really. Loves people. Loves to play. Irresistibly cute. She does love to piss everywhere, though, so training will be interesting. And our cat hasn't exactly taken to her kindly... yet. He can just wait till she grows to be bigger than him though. Then we'll see who's swinging his bollocks around giving it large.

So tomorrow will mostly be spent hanging with the new dog. Let's not forget Marble, of course. God rest her soul and all that. It's nice to have a dog who has such a different personality to Marble though. Makes her seem less and less like a replacement.

Less whinging next entry. I promise!

Big love,
Ryan.