Hi.

I've been lying to everybody big time.

For the past few months I've been really ill.

Somehow, and god* only knows how (* = I use the term god in the loosest possible way as an atheist. lol) I've managed to hide it from everybody.

But when I took Thomas to Barcelona back in April I went disco dancing in a packed restaurant and when I came too I was confronted with a mad Czech woman in my face who helped me a lot before the paramedics got there.

I had another a couple of weeks later at the end of April and another at the beginning of the of this month. That was a very mild one by my standards but enough to put most people on their arses for a week or two but somehow I ended up in work 10 hours later as if nothing had happened.

On the 13th of this month I saw my consultant clinical neurophysiologist Dr Hamid Modarres.

My ten minute appointment turned into one of our usual hour or so long chats about everything, and I opened up to him exactly what’s been going on and how I can't keep going on like this anymore.

I admitted to the crippling migraines that enough morphine to placate a heroine addict wasn't touching, the insomnia that would last for days, sometimes weeks. The record being eighteen days I think it was. The hallucinations and déjà vu. Dizzy spells and general difficulty in concentration. All of this whilst sometimes working the hours that I do.

There was one thing that made me do all of this.

One simple thing.

After the fit in Barcelona, after the paramedics had checked me out and said I was well enough (that and I point blank refused to go to hospital!) me and Thomas went to a Starbucks a few hundred meters down the Avinguda Diagonal and grabbed a coffee and a frap.

He just jumped into my arms and burst into tears.

It's even making me tearful writing this.

I can't continue the bullshit and the lies anymore. If I am ill then I am ill. I can't keep working 45, 50, 60 hour weeks to placate the company and please everyone.

Thomas comes first in my life.

I come second.

My Dad comes third.

My friends come next.

Oh on a lighter* note... When I saw the G.P. earlier to sort out the cock up with my repeat prescription due to the new receptionist... I asked Dr. Nam if I could pinch his scales and weigh myself...

I weigh 120KG.

Now in English that's 18St 8Lb.

Drop a couple of pounds for all my clothes and all my bits and bobs and for the first time since I was 18 I guess I'm under 18 and a half stone. Considering at my heaviest I was 26 stone.

* = No pun intended.

Take care,

Love and hugs.

Jay.
xxx