No spotty pajamas probably now lost forever in a mass pile of mess that somehow manages to follow me around. I'm like MrMcGoo .... oblivious to my own trail of devastation. So I am nude woooo wooooo and in my naked state I am thinking of my life stripped bare. If I focused on illness, it would probably run riot and consume me. Just because I don't focus doesn't put me in denial, and my determination doesn't make me arrogant. Nor am I naive. What I am when exposed is a woman about to hit 50 who will not succumb to this disease. I have had 49 great years, yes OK peppered with tragedy, adversity and hardship, but that's life. Speak to anyone we all have something to deal with. I want another 20 years and I accept they won't be as easy but does that make me not want the best from them hell no. The day I stop living is the day you play London's Calling by the Clash and it doesn't cause me to smile. That is never going to happen. My condition, chronic wellness, its what I plan for everyday. Everyday. C
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