Pericarditis.

I am still laid low with the effects of pericarditis.

It had been chased away by some fairly massive doses of Prednisone but it fought its way back to start plaguing me again. Again I am in pain. My chest feels like I have been hammered with a sledge, I am consistently short of breath and I feel when I get up from sitting down that I could possibly black out.

Fortunately I am working with some very wise and respectful people. I am in post-production now and my partners are protecting me. We come to the editors late—I don’t usually arrive to 9:30, and we wrap up our work around 5. In all, a pretty leisurely day.

I am not myself, of course, I have pericarditis. But I have my moments of cogent contribution and that seems to be enough. And again, my art director partner and my producers are supporting me.

I have never been sick before in my life. And now I’ve been sick, on and off, steadily since July 22^nd when pneumonia and a car crash laid me low. I have had good days and good weeks since then, but I am not fully recovered.

Now, in fact I am in great pain—pain greater than the kidney stone I had back in 1989. I will, I’m sure recover before long. And I am in good medical hands via a coterie of doctors who seem to know what they are doing.

That said I am sick.

And in pain.

I do not feel myself. I do not feel as good and capable. I have lost both my patience and my sense of humor.

I am sick.

Wish me luck.