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  • R, my wife: It's probably just hay-fever (Agreed, probably)
  • Mother: You've had a stroke, go to A&E (I see your concern)
  • Pharmacist: Have you tried moisturiser? (No, what a relief)
  • Mirror: Your pupils are different sizes, didn't you notice? (Fuck)
  • GP: Oh hun, get to A&E (Definitely should listen more to mother)
  • Cafetière: Hold up. This will be awful. Steel yourself with my fermented legume juice (I love you, Cafetière friend)
  • Front desk: Occupation? Oh, I'm a computer science student (Cool! And A&E receptionist? Rough. The Tories, right)
  • Nurse: Where are you? What year is it? (*cold sweat*)
  • Doctor: Brain surgery tonight? (Err, can I think about this?)
  • Allotment neighbour - hospital elevator: !! (!!)

Reader, I've had a scary week or two. I dismissed some serious symptoms and continued to do everything I shouldn't under the circumstances. Things could be a lot worse.

I'm still in pain, my eye may forever droop, and I'm not entirely out of the woods. We've changed our plans accordingly.

  • Q3 objective: Rest, resist the allotment, do not have a stroke.

That said, I feel very lucky. Takeaway: Death stalks us all. Listen to (my) mother. The NHS is still where it's at. My family and friends are the best. R is a total hero (10/10 would marry again).