Recently, I have been thinking of developing for myself a new kind of disease to assist with my condition. I am thinking that this disease should reduce me to a small jelly-like impersonation of myself, perhaps through some fungal-bacterial coup-de-gras. I might like also to feel my joints detatch from themselves, or to have my flesh overrun by tremblind cancerous boils, painting me up and down like some great pink gorilla. I lean back in my chair and imagine with delight my two lungs crackling like popcorn through the tumbles of my coughs. Oh, what astonishing pleasure! What more can man dream of than this?