Grrrrrr. I hate it!
I’m not even having any tests or investigations, it’s only the annual chat. And my neuro isn’t the Prince of Darkness or anything.
But I’m already stressing, and wishing I’d cancelled. I don’t think I’ve got anything to discuss, and don’t think he will, either, really.
I don’t feel great, but I didn’t expect to. I don’t think there have been any major new developments over the past year.
I’m getting stressed with everything right now. Stressed about the hospital, stressed I seem to be well on the way to losing my job, and even stressed about something which ought to be fantastic news, which is that I have a DATE at the end of the month!
My Greek pen-pal, who knows I have MS, has finally asked to meet me, in London! I should be thrilled, of course. He’s clever, kind, handsome and successful. Only trouble is, I feel old, ill, frumpy, and soon to be on the scrapheap; in short, well out of my league.