a) Crohn's disease
c) a cumulative series of "micro-strokes"
d) ergot poisoning
e) male pattern baldness
None of the above seems to be true, I'm glad to report, at least to a fatal degree. I have however lost four pounds, and my appetite's still not back, which is worrying, what with teaching starting again tomorrow.
Oh, and of course when I knew I was dying I found myself morbidly dwelling on the utter uselessness-or-at-least-transience of my life, a theme illustrated by the following lines of Gerard Manley H, which repeatedly crashed round my head without permission:
How far from then forethought of, all thy more boisterous years,
When thou at the random grim forge, powerful amidst peers,
Didst fettle for the great grey dray-horse his bright and battering sandal!