Re-posts are with express permission only. That makes it all alright, does it? I think I have a couple more days to go on this course, which I will be glad to be rid of, as trying to swallow eight of the tablets in various fashions around meal time is proving difficult with the Darwin-awful taste of the things.Īll Rights Reserved, as stated. The amusing thing about the medication's instructions is that unless you get problems with your stools, continue with the medication, but let your doctor know. My asthma and eczema is certainly not giving me any bother and my eyes don't seem so sore anymore, but I seem to suffering several of the the physical side effects, not to mention the side effects affecting mental health (I get a rapid change in mood when Mike leaves me for work and I am alone). The course of prednisolone that I was given from the hospital has been doing its various damages and repairs. There's some memories a human just can't erase, no matter how hard they try. Saying that, I have in the middle of a write-up about the recent spell in hospital (it was certainly worth writing about, and not in a good way either, let's put it that way). I think this is compensation for the fact I seldom blog these days. Still got to document most of January, though I've made good start with February. In other news I have been catching up with recent events in my scrapbook/journal thing. Or at least until I win the National Lottery and pot enough to get a decent-sized house. We do have a spare room with which we could've done all that, but as storage space (and space in general) is quite limited, my plans to take over that room have been put on hold. It will be a cosy and comfortable room, and one perhaps that I would spend more time in instead of the living room. I can't wait for the day I get a room where I can have a desk, bookcases and a small bed or easy chair for quick naps and drifing off. This most possibly (read 'probably') gives Mike a reasonable measure of aggravation, varying in seriousness and much dependent on whether I get in the way or not (though the aesthetics of my clutter further depress him). (Not that it matters because I don't understand the whole 'explore thing anyway.)Ī lack of a desk often means that the coffee table (or the living room floor) is comandeered for whatever creative pursuits I may busy myself with.
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