Friday, 20 June 2008

Called back by doctor

Well that's never happened to me before. I've seen cases of it in soap operas and feelgood films about health providers but I've never actually heard of it in real life where you get blood taken at the blood taking shop and a day later your GP rings up and says could you call in tomorrow and see him about the results. P was worried by the call but I wasn't.

Recall, I've seen the shows, I've watched the movies, all will be well.

My GP who will have to remain nameless never sees you at the time of your appointment. I am convinced the longer I wait in his waiting room the longer the germs and viral nasties have to colonise (or whatever they do) so it was no surprise to me to learn I had a nasty unspecified infection which is leaving me tired even after a night's unbroken sleep. A night hardly passes, though, without our wretched cats pitching camp on one's feet, legs, stomach, or bottom. Hacking up furballs at three a.m. is a favourite trick as well.

The infection is entirely unrelated to my inflammation problem so I now have another lot of medication to take. Medication! Me! Old "nothing stronger than a Disprin, thanks" is now writhing from the effects of rather strong antibiotics on the fauna of the guts. Doctor did say the effects will pass before the course of treatment ends.

Last night we watched the film version of Perfume

Very tasty film. Reminded me of the old style Hammer Horror flicks, especially the ones in the seventies when they were allowed nudity but still cut away at the slice of a sickle before it opened a throat from ear to ear.

Whoa, insides writhing again.

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