May be on the verge of death, may need new glasses.

I'm a fan and purveyor of sad, introspective drama, and I take further pleasure in the fact my hand-jazzing pathos is rarely actually seen, allowing the pretentious side of my brain to pose sadly in ink-stained white shirt, quill in hand while the cynical side of my brain snorts in hysterical contempt.

I feel these two contrasting parts of myself need names. Pretentious brain shall from henceforth be called Gretchen, and the cynical side, Martha. Gretchen, because that's what I changed my name to for 4 weeks when I was a 15 year old living under the unprecedented tyranny of period pain, and Martha because I can't think of that name without thinking of a rolling pin. And to me, rolling pins are a symbol of "get your fucking arse out your head."

You can just imagine a burly "worked me whole life" woman giving you a "the hell?" look with that in hand, right? That's who is sneering at Gretchen in my head.

Aaaaanyway, back to the original point of this post.

About 2 months ago, I was shaving my legs in the bath tub, when I noticed a small freckle I hadn't noticed before. A little bit "oh", and considered the implications a little, before deciding to mention it to a doctor friend.

I then promptly got out of the bath, and forgot all about it. Until about 2 weeks ago, when I almost fainted in class, and generally felt like I was going to vomit at any given moment. I am still having the headachey, world-turning, nearly fainty feeling, but not nearly so badly, and at the time, I was really very worried about the prospect of something being seriously wrong with me.

I should mention, at this point, that although I am related to doctor people in England, I don't have health insurance in France, which is where I am confined. Also, it was around this time that I found another freckle on my stomach.

I'm still debating with myself if the stomach-freckle was there all along or not, but either way, this is the first time in my life that I've been scared for my physical health (my mental health has always been nothing much but a geographical concept.)

In my paper diary, I wrote a rather forlorn plea to fate to spare me. In retrospect, it's a little embarrassing to read, especially as I am now almost convinced that the problem is my eyesight. All the same, I am grateful when I gain deeper perspective of things, and most of all for the accompanying empathy to others really in the situation, even when what gave me that deeper perspective is utterly false.