If it isn't the real thing, I'm sunk.

Last week, as you recall, Will, Penny and Dr. Smith...

As most of my reader know, I'm in a medical research study for a BPH treatment. It consists of periodic injections to reduce testosterone production. I was apprised of certain possible side-effects. The obvious one is not a problem, thankfully. My libido is fine, thank you very much. However, I have some other less-than-fun things going on in my life. I have gained no weight, but my extant avoirdupois seems to be shifting to my abdomen. No six-pack, here...think of a keg. Meh.
The Aardvark seems not as sexiful as he once was.

That is really not that bad, comparatively speaking. My real problem is anger. Now, I have allus had a temper, but with zero being Nirvana, and nine being thermonuclear devastation, with kicking the dog and then dropping cinderblocks on it for good measure, well, I am currently going from 0 to 8 in five seconds. This is not good. Neither is it fun, and I had been worrying over it. Couple of days ago, whilst in a lucid and calm moment, I was discussing with The Dread Dormomoo and Loen my concern, when it hit me: "I'm in a medical trial!!". So-o-o-o-o-o...if I AM in fact receiving the real drug, and not a placebo, it may well explain the situation, and we can all handle it a bit better, with expectation of its being temporary.

If otherwise I am receiving coloured saline, I am having an Unpleasantness, one which needs to be dealt with. That or I am an Unpleasantness, the thought of which really makes me angry. Very, very....

Fortunately, I don't have a dog. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.