Checking in while I still can. The boss is at her first colonoscopy as I type. She smokes heavily and I am too spooked to research links between smoking and colon cancer so that I can properly worry about it in advance and find its proper place in my elaborate hierarchy of anxieties.

I was at my friend's place, let's call her Melanie, when it was announced on the news that a bill had been passed in the state legislature that benefited special needs students. Melanie belted out her rousing support and I told her I was puzzled, as she had shown no similar compassion for her own bipolar niece, whom she had once described, to my silent horror, as "so useless that she might as well kill herself". Ol' Lefty should probably have kept his crazy mouth shut at that point, but I couldn't help it. Fortunately, and to my relief, Melanie saw my point, agreed with me, and pledged several times that she would "think about it". Her half sentence "If it was a physical illness..." was a positive sign. Melanie had achieved the understanding of the parity of physical and mental illness and may look upon her niece with new compassion. Society has benefited from my being a complete jerk.

Warmest support to all of you in your struggles, word to my brother bioChE: nothing disappoints quite like a stalled antidepressant. Wellbutrin stalled on me 15 years ago, and I count my relationship with Wellbutrin as among the many precious relationships that my illness has sabotaged.