Muggins has entered the building

My friend and his wife drove over to collect the stuff I got from my neighbor-and, although she was very sympathetic, he told me that I've been played, that all the gear wasn't worth even half what I paid for it. So now his pet name for me is Muggins-because he said that I'm a world class mug. I believe every hard luck story - and I suppose that's true, because I always want to believe the best in people. Oops-what a mug. So he took everything away, and I felt terrible, so he gave me what he thought he could get for it all, and I took the hit. Fair enough-I've known them both for more than ten years, they won't rip me off. Hopefully.

As for my neighbor-he is going into hospital for cancer surgery next week, looks like crap, and even though I know I've been ripped off, I still feel like I did a good thing. His friends wouldn't help him; he would have starved for two weeks. Nice friends.

As for my week-apart from that-I didn't have a single hospital appointment-booyah. I make up for it in the next couple of weeks, but I also retake the neurology tests and see the neurologist. I'm a little concerned, but not as freaked out as I was over the past two weeks.

I told you that my immunology team wouldn't help, because they are  immunology, and not neurology. So I did some digging and found the name and email address of the consultant who has my name on his list. That is how they work it here: every patient is on someone's list, but sometimes (most times) you wait for hours on end and then see a junior doctor. Mine was very thorough, which I appreciated, but I needed answers from my consultant. And, amazingly enough, I got them. Sort of.

I emailed last week and I got a reply yesterday. They test for everything that could possibly cause the symptoms I've been having, and the tests which prove motor neurone will be provided as quickly as possible. This, for me, will be the end of the month. All they want to do is rule things out, so the person who mentioned motor neurone should never have said anything, Test. Prove. Diagnose. Until then, keep mouth shut. So that made me feel better.

I braved the crowds of idiots and went to Essex to see my friend yesterday. In keeping with my new practice of not giving out any names-so all doctors are now Mr. X or Mr. Y-and trust me when I say that I get very confused!-I'll just call her D. I had acupuncture. We caught up. It's a very long journey (three hours), and I probably should find a practitioner closer to home, but it's nice to just get out and get away from London for a day. And it was sunny and warm, so I wasn't complaining.

Now the proverbial has hit the fan about the budget, and people are more miserable than usual (if that's possible). I get really depressed about the fact that I'm stuck here for the duration, and I would love to come home ("home" being over the pond), but I look at what that Neanderthal is doing to my country and I just shake my head in disbelief. With a bit of luck, he'll get kicked out before he does damage that is irreparable.

In three months I return to Queen Square to have all the original tests again, which will be interesting. I've only got three months to get my act together, and to really do the work; I admit to being very sloppy about that, walking but not doing the other exercises. It shows, and this lapse is down to me and nobody else. So, sleeves rolled up, get those weights, charts, cushions, and try not to fall over and break anything.

Nobody is coming to rescue me-I have to get off my backside and rescue myself. Nobody knows how much time we have, even though when we're children we think we'll live forever. Not so-I see people I know (or know about) dropping like flies, so whatever time I have left, I must not waste it.

On that rather sad note, I'm off to Starbucks. It's supposed to rain later, as usual-my flat white is calling my name...