My need for new size syringes and newfangled tubes has caused quite a stir at my village general practice. My doctor (who actually hates me I'm sure) is none too pleased that she has to do some work on my behalf. I've made endless rounds of phone calls to and fro with no real answers; even my dietician has been left scratching the old cranium. Anyone who says "Life is a battle" can fight mine any day!
Oh what's the use of moaning -- Laugh and the whole world laughs with you. Cry and you're on your own! And that's just it! I am on my own. As for my mum well, she's still extremely poorly in hospital and I'm fighting a daily battle for her. The things that put her there in the first place are a saga I may write about one day but not yet -- the chapter is nowhere near completion. So my hospital visits, although tiresome, are not for myself surprisingly! I feel a sense of dread whenever I set foot in the place, with good reason too. I'm all too glad when visiting hours are over. Don't get me wrong I love my mum and I'm always pleased to see her -- it's the other lot I shy away from.
So another day dawns and I'm beginning my quest for today -- a meeting with social services, hospital visit -- oh, and I'm on the radio too!
C'est la vie!