Suppose I should tell yers... Me Ma died on Sunday. Of course it was crap, but to be honest, she was ready for her rest and it wasn't unexpected. So, it's still shite, but we're getting on with it. I'm in bulk, though.
Six weeks I've had that sciatica now. It got so bad, they thought I'd had a stroke. All me face caved in and stuck like Charlie Laughton. That was shite, but then me fucking head swelled up to the size of Neil Ruddocks after he'd been on the piss for a fortnight. I'm going for blood tests in a minute. I've had scans, ecg's all sorts of shite. The doctors still don't know what's going on.
Our kid dragged me the alehouse yesterday. I couldn't handle it and was only in there 5 minutes, but thank fuck I went. Some woman, aul one, piss head from Glasgow, took one look at me, described every single syptom I'd had, and told me exactly what I was suffering because she's had it herself... Temporal Arthritis. So, hopefully the doctors can start putting me right now she's clued them in.
Fucking doctors, not worth a carrot and don't give a fuck. Oh well, at least I know what it is and I can start demanding the proper treatment.