The 1st of January. I rang in the New Year in the manner in which I intend to continue it; surrounded by family and friends, happy, full and safe.

Mommy helped me to bed at about half past one, and I fell into the sort of dreamless sleep that only alcohol provides. I eventually rose about twenty past nine, with a cracking headache and a general feeling of "ugh". I don't drink often, so my hangovers always seem worse. Breakfast and coffee helped.

Mommy and Daddy to get Grandma, and we had lunch of game casserole just after one. This afternoon, I drank more coffee and I finished The End of Men etc. I just wanted to floop all afternoon - I'll be fine tomorrow, I just need another sleep.

Tonight we have eaten tiny food and I am in denial about the intermittent stabbing pains I'm having in my abdomen.

I'm terrified about the next cholangitis flare up. I am scared for the pain and the fact that I'll be readmitted. I don't want to go back, and I don't want to go in and out for drugs again. And what if this is it? When I'm well, I can almost pretend this isn't happening, and carry on with my life, but right now I'm just really afraid. I'm not ready yet.

The 2nd of January.

Today has been a sleepy day, because last night I had lorazepam in fear that all my stressful thoughts from last night wouldn't go away. I was right.

So I slept well, but only until about half past seven. I got dressed in some jeans and Gryffindor cardigan, so I felt super-comfy.

Because today was basically a write-off day, I could do many errands and tick them off - I have ordered thank you cards, found my ASOS proof of delivery as I have yet to receive an email saying they've received my return parcel, found my cheque book, and done some tedious but necessary iCloud-type admin  on my phone.

I have read no books today as it would have been pointless, but tomorrow I plan on actually leaving the house after the nurse comes.

I'm having an early night tonight.