Squarewheelbike
Well-known member
This time last week I might have answered this very differently. At that point I was the youngest spriteliest person in an old folks home I thought I'd never get out of, that I'd been in for a year. 3pm on Monday afternoon I was told I was leaving, 11am next day I stood bewildered but relieved in a North London box room that is my new temporary home. Settling in has been interesting, particularly made more so by some young scamp giving me a hearty shove in the back on my first night out, while doing up my zip at the top of a flight of stairs! My face and the back of my hands are a particular sight to behold, but at least do detract from the fact I've not had my haircut for over a year and resemble the lead singer of a bad German Heavy Metal band from the 80's! That said Friday morning I woke with a spring in my step that I'd not had for some time and happily walked off for a "routine" Hospital appointment at the North Mids! As I kind of knew a lot of medical emails addressed to me, never got to me and it took a while for what was happening to sink in properly, long and short of it is, there's something wrong with my blood and has been for a while, something I didn't know because of all the missed appointments I never knew about! So now I've got to wait 8 weeks, in my little box room to find out what the results are from all that blood they took out of me. So, am I caring about this? No, not really.
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