There is a new series on itv called Births, Deaths and Marriages, about a registry office. It's obviously supposed to be somewhat thought-provoking, but I think it's especially pertinent to me at the moment. My parents will have to go and register my death, which I hadn't really thought about before. One of the formalities of dying that those of us that do it don't have to concern ourselves with. And I very much doubt I'll ever register a marriage, or probably even be in a relationship again. Who wants to date a girl with an expiry date? Not that I know when that it. It's hard. When we first got the news, it felt like it would be very soon, but now I'm less sure. The gaps in between my episodes of cholangitis have been relatively long - several months at a time, once properly treated, so I could potentially have a couple of years. That's the optimistic view, but I think it's the better one. I will still try to get the things on my bucket list done, because equally, I could get sick again tomorrow, and I want to relish the memories for as long as possible. It's not dominating my thoughts quite so much anymore. It comes up, when something prompts it, but I'm not dwelling on my imminent demise. I take each day as it comes, listening to my body and being grateful for each day I'm not imprisoned by pain and drugs. I know that when I'm next admitted, it'll be for longer, and I'll resent everyone and my body even more. At least I won't have to deal with cannula palaver again. I can't cope with more first year doctors decimating my remaining veins.