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I Need a Cure

My anxiety is in rare form this morning. We're seeing an expert about Mayhem's digestive issues, today.

There's a high likelihood that said expert will recommend irreversible invasive surgery and I am prepared to fight like a tiger about this.

And I am terrified - absolutely bone-deep terrified - that I will somehow fail and legal shit will get involved on all of this.

I have to think of this in a Best Case, Worst Case, Most Likely Case scenario.

Best Case: Mayhem is cured forever and he just needs to take a Quick-Eze now and then.

Worst Case: The fucking cops drag me away for child neglect even though Mayhem's 17, I end up in prison, they force an operation, and Mayhem can never enjoy fatty foods ever again. Well. Not without consequences.

Most Likely Case: The expert will listen to me and provide a whole bunch of alternatives and an actual fucking solution.

I should do this for all my anxiety shit. I feel a little better already.

It's not a cure. The road to recovery is rocky, winding, and overloaded with switchbacks. This is just A Method. And I am glad of the comic that inspired it.