Pause for breath, ‘And, are you under some misapprehension that I am completely stupid, without access to the internet or in any way oblivious to the potential side effects of the ONLY treatment that my illness has ever, and continues to, respond to?’
‘Perhaps you should consider for one moment the quality of your life without the use of your hands, arms, eyesight? Perhaps you should consider the reality of the dilemma that I face all the time, of unpalatable drugs plus better quality of life now or no drugs and ludicrously poor quality of life now and later?’
‘To suggest that I have given these choices no thought until you brought it to my attention is both insulting and patronising…please, no, I don’t want you to stand there apologising, I want you to go away and deal with my actual needs, not your facile assumptions about what you think these should be.’
I really do not want to disrespect my doctors but I do expect them to recognise that, given its' significance to me, I would never give less than full consideration to the choices I have. I live with the consequences of the unpalatable decisions we must make.
I have to say it is boring me rigid to recall it. I hate loathe and detest being in hospital so much that even having to write about it makes me not want to write at all, so, no more.
I was hospital in a few days longer than expected and am now at home and improving day by day. I hate the spots the most, though, as problems go, spots don’t quite hack it, do they? Examining my spotty skin, I ask EaZyD if he will want to spend his next life with me. He said,
‘No, I want the new improved version next time...the one in full working order!’ Maybe Santa can help him out with that ...
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