There is no Combat! blog today, because vertigo came back. Maybe it’s just a brief dip in the upward-tending line of my recovery, and everything will be fine. Or maybe not. When you think about it, there’s no reason I shouldn’t just sicken and die. The important thing is that my doctor can’t see me until July 14, and no other doctor in Missoula covered by my insurance is taking new patients before September. So whatever happens will happen, and I will get better or not, and in the meantime I will keep not writing and not doing the fun things I planned to do this summer. I suppose I will keep throwing up, too, and continue to lose weight. There’s no reason it should ever stop, really. There’s no reason any doctor should be able figure out what is wrong with me, and there’s no reason what is wrong with me can’t just be everything—getting sick over and over for no particular reason but coincidence. There’s no reason I should be well. There’s no reason I should even be able to stand up. There’s no reason anything should get better, because fuck me, right? If you need me, I’ll be in my apartment, where it’s been record-hot all week for no reason at all, too. Don’t read this post aloud at my funeral.