Taxi to the doc this morning which is normally a fifteen minute walk. I came out of the house with the intention of walking it, but realised after a few steps that I’d stand a better chance of climbing Everest.

I’ve been wrestling with sleeping the last six months or so and have been taking sleeping tablets, gradually reducing the dose. Now I’m wrestling with keeping awake. I’ve gone cold turkey on the tablets but am still sleeping through the night and then most of the day. I even manage to fall asleep in the waiting room.

The GP is kind and efficient, before I became ill I’d see her every five years or so. Now it’s at least every month, but she knows I only come as a last resort. She thinks it’s another chest infection, plus a bit of whatever Mum had last week. More antibiotics. And she says to just give in to the sleep.

I’m to phone her on Tuesday to let her know how I am, ‘if you’re not better, I’ll pop round.’ Then she insists on going outside to call me a cab.

Let no one diss the NHS in my hearing.


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