Despair often breeds disease.
Every ill man hath his ill day.
How sick i am! that thought Always comes to me with horror. Is it this strange for everybody? But such fugitive feelings have always been my metier.
You cannot look at someone and say they are unhealthy. You are not a doctor, and if you were, you'd realize why that's silly.
I can't eat and I can't sleep. I'm not doing well in terms of being a functional human, you know?
We are indeed drifting into the arena of the unwell.
I am tired. My arm aches. My head boils. My feet are cold. But I am not aware of any weakness.
Support Group featured a rotating cast of characters in various states of tumor-driven unwellness. Why did the cast rotate? A side effect of dying.
