If I wasn't linked up to oxygen, with my port connected for the IV and a hole in my arm, this room would be almost pleasant. I have a window open onto the garden and a pleasant breeze blowing through and it is warm without being stifling. The colour scheme is a little 1980's - cream and blue but I have an ensuite bathroom, fully equipped for a cripple. The show of defiance from me is I refuse to poo in a pot. Short of 24 hour, 1-on-1 supervision, it is not a battle I am going to lose just now.....
I have been admitted with a mysterious cough and overall mouldiness. I frightened Dr W this morning by not only admitting to being mould,y but by accepting that I couldn't go home just now. I have been roundly told off by Gemma for not seeking help before, but have not yet managed to produce any symptoms beyond a slightly raised temperature on admission and a scary sounding cough.
Apparently I am septic somewhere. Eww. At the moment we can't find it so In response I have been scanned including brain ct -'cool! And x-rayed. And had loads of people listening to my chest. Endlessly.
I suspect it is something to do with the t shirt I am wearing. The Fuck You Cancer one from Colleen. Everyone loves it. I have had to turn it back to front so the writing is across my chesticles.
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