July 6th, 2016

dorian gray

I Went To The Doctor...

Dealings with the NHS , like everything else, seem to be increasingly scary. I went up to the surgery today to get results on my last blood test (Still 'pre-diabetic', but no worse, thank gods-)
I moaned about how my CFS seems to get worse and worse all the time, and she asked me was I still getting the B12 injections...I have never had ANY B12 injections, although apparently they were prescribed almost four years ago, after my sleeve op, unnoticed by the GP. Every time I have to go there, it seems I discover some weird little thing like that, and my prescriptions are always being screwed up, wrong stuff, wrong dosage, not getting anything, etc. You could die...My varicose veins are so gruesome now that I asked about having them done properly (The foam didn't work.) They're quite uncomfortable, not to mention grotesque, and  (TMI) itch, sting and spontaneously bleed all the time. That treatment isn't available on the NHS any more, she said,,, She will apply for it, though. Fap! My mood is not good.
I've noticed it my dippings into BIG BROTHER the last few years, that young folk seem to be into really sleazy-looking old-fashioned prison/sailor tats these days, a la the late Amy Winehouse and the scuzzy Marco Pierre White Jr. I like tattoos, myself, and have several, but IMO these look rather nasty, especially when they're all over your bloody neck. That is gross.
Until this week Moon was pretty good about not getting on the bed, except at breakfast time, but now I keep waking up to find her perched on top of my bum, or nuzzled hairily under my arm, oozing allergy-cooties dander. I really don't need it, as it's been a bad summer for sneezing already. When I groggily try to shift her, she gives me that 'I beg your pardon?' look.

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