The Greenglish Patient…

Yes I’m back in hospital. It’s those damn shingles again. I can’t seem to get enough of them. That’s why I am now calling them Pringles.

Thanks to those who have sent well wishes, much appreciated. Keep sacrificing those goats (A joke in reference to the philosopher Dan Dennett) Bridget and the staff here are rather splendid as is my suite/ward at the Hammersmith Hotel/Hospital. I was in quite a lot of pain today, so they’ve given me an antiviral ‘iv’ for the infection and 2 little Matrix style pills (whose name I must remember) They are some kind of painkiller, and suddenly I get why Elvis wore those clothes in his later career. They are lovely. Everything is lit like a Barbara Cartland Novel, and just so…interesting. Not sure how I’m going to come off these. Damn my abstinent principles.

Until now, I’ve been REALLY well. Busy, happy and made some strides on the pilgrimmage to 6-pack mecca. I see these setbacks as my personal memento mori (sp?) lest I rest back on my laurels, and fail to be hardy. (clever)

But I’m sick, this damn herpes zoster is a virilent bugger and wants to take over my entire being. I don’t care much for the ant-viral medication, but my enemy’s enemy is my friend.

Best wishes to all. This sort of an infection can be really serious but I feel real tough about such things these days and I’m so conditioned to be a patient, that I’m close to jabbing the needles in myself, programming the machines and then going off to check how all the other patients are doing. I might even buy a stethoscope and grow thicker eyebrows .

Love (platonic) & thanks (socratic)

milt

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