So there I sat and waited and waited and waited cocooned in my large big brother confessional throne. 
Wait for beetle juice = 4.5 hours
Feeding into body time = 15 mins
Don’t feel too concerned dear reader as I was provided with a free “palatable” corned beef sandwich. 
I am just so relieved that the NHS hasn’t resorted to handing out food of a inferior nature in these times of hardship. To be fair the weather didn’t help and the top class nursing staff made up for the time-lapse. There was only a slight hiccup when the nurse asked for Colin to knock on the house keepers door and request tea and biscuits so that I could take my prescribed cocaine (OK, large dose of 20 x 2mg Dexamethasone). The work to rule tea trolly lady had forgotten to put out the ” I’m on my break” sign which she kindly pointed out was blue-tacked to the inside of her rest room. No worries, a costa coffee from the downstairs entrance hall designed like a first class airport lounge, did the trick and included a toasted bacon and cheese delight.
Colin did quite well to extract himself at most points of possible squeamishness with laps of the space headquarters (floor 2). Unfortunately he missed the explanation the nurse gave, on why she needed to watch the insertion of one particular drug that could cause sudden vein collapse requiring some sort of emergency response, I watched him slowly turn a murky shade of green and grip tighter onto the arms of his passenger space seat. My dear sensitive husband really doesn’t appreciate words such as ” vein, cannula , chamber, stroke (depending on context!) or numerous other medical terms.
So we left the hospital at approximately 17.00hrs armed with a few take-home drugs to keep me going, 31 daily to be precise. For somebody who struggled to remember to take her daily vitamin D this is going to be a challenge; but, as I soon discovered there is a medication reminder app (several in fact to choose from) if I can only work out how to input photos of my daily newly acquired drug habit.
Today it’s Kate’s turn as my trusty sister has kindly, if not somewhat apprehensively volunteered to be my chaperone and provide Colin with a period of recovery from scary words. Honestly Kate, surely it’s nothing compared to the processes you and Cheryl have to get up with with your dirty (or is it flirty) mares in order for your stallions to produce their gold star juices. Wink wink! Oh dear please don’t get the wrong impression of my sister it really is an above board lucrative business and very necessary in order to produce gold medal quality offspring. No whips or jodhpurs are involved at this part of the process (or so I am told). I am not sure I have made that sound any more respectable but I do believe stud workers (I wonder if there is a name for those?) , royalty, polo players and other such equestrian folk get involved…hmmmm! Perhaps I need to find a link to insert here to ensure a more academic explanation of the procedure my sister occasionally partakes in. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horse_breeding#Artificial_insemination
And for the R&R not much chance of that last night I am afraid as the large dose of steroids made sure of it, keeping me awake in anticipation for one of the list of possible side effects to appear. Feeling for my hair it feels as bushy as it did pre drugs (0h dear this post really has gone to pot) no numbness or tingling yet and I don’t think I’ve succumbed to a fatal reaction……………..or have I?
On a more serious note the scores on the board at this current time of 6.15am
Physical health = 2
Mental health = 2
