Shrill drills and other stories…

I was awakened this morning by the whine of a very high pitched drill. I cringed and felt the pain it causes in my nerves. It went on for too long.

I have started on antibiotics again. Yesterday, I heard fluid in my chest. I will continue with steroids too. I almost called an ambulance, but I feel in charge now. I am trembling and have a temperature.

My daughter seems to be the poster girl for her company. She is doing well in Oxford, and it seems she would like to stay there.

This causes me a huge dilemna. I don’t want to be parted from her, with only visits, yet I don’t want to leave my garden or have the hassle of moving.

If I move, it will be to somewhere that will give me palliative care. I cannot go on like this, surely?

I am so grateful that the neighbours with the windchimes left. Had I known that mentioning them here would get rid of them I would have doneit sooner. What cruel, cold, vile people they were to deliberately cause me pain. I can only pity them.