its just gone 9pm, the t.v is on mute. im typing. drinking tea, and just about to take my meds, first i must eat a biccie, i have a choice, either digestive or hob-nob, mmmm wonder what i shall have tonight choices, choices. digestive i think.
sweet papa, turned up with a huge cath kidston bag for me. inside was a pair of soft pjs, a pretty key ring( i need one of those, i truly do its better than my old tatty one), three coat hangers ( which i asked for) and a bath mit. now im getting worried. i asked him whilst he was in the kings road, chelsea to pop in to get me the coat hangers, dont ask, he turns up with other goodies. what you need to know is when we were children we never got presents unless it was our birthday or christmas present. ( plus on holiday we were allowed to choose paper and pens). and that way still stands today. do they know something that i dont? giving me the heebie geebies.
seriously though, i feel bad with being so ill. the stress shows a little with them, when they tell me how worried they were when i was in hospital in may. i know that i say that im better than i am. yet when im falling, i cant show much else than this.
never mind the consultant appointment is in a fortnight, so i will know for sure whats wrong, all the tests should be back by then. i have a lovely one next week to go to, gold rings on the lower inner eye lid to test the electrical current to my brain. one to look forward to.
sorry about my spellings, grammar. when im better i will be able to concentrate more. oh the same with repeating myself, my mind is a blank and i may say the same things everyday!!!. so you might now want to read tomorrow, because youve already read it.