I took my bucket with me to hospital. I couldn’t trust myself not to vomit while coughing. Bah.

So I kept telling Weasel, ‘I has a bucket.’ Then I’d have Fergus say it too. He comes with me to all my appointments.

Weasel was playing with her DS while we were waiting and I liked to put Fergus’s nose on the screen and say ‘woof’. It worked really well for me.

The good news is that vasculitis people are pleased with my treatment and I can continue as I am. I see them again on the 27th, same day as chest doctor for convenience.

I didn’t sleep very well last night, the coughing needed me to be awake to enjoy it fully.

I feel crafty because when I had to get pre-checked for admission this one time I got pointed to another room in which to get blood tests taken. The regular old out-patient blood testing room is always crowded and I’d usually wait at least 30 minutes for my turn. But this other room usually only has four or five other people max. When I got there today there was only one other couple and they didn’t take a number so I got to go right in. Awesome.

Got two very nice things in the post today:

• News that I am entitled to incapacity benefit and it would be starting soon!
• Many, many vouchers for Domino’s!

The two could be related. Okay, not really. Benefit will be very useful to help with the house and garden. It will also help us breathe easier with day-to-day stuff like food.

Also discovered there is a Disable Person’s Rail Card which I am entitled to now since I’m all deaf and stuff. I’d rather have my hearing.

Today’s puppy at Daily Puppy was Raro the Boxer. He has this photo which I had to caption. For the record, I didn’t know how to spell flower in the proper way so after discussing with Weasel I decided to just go with correct spelling.

Raro has his flower and I have my bucket. We’re doing good.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my obituary I am supposed to write for counselling and I haven’t done it because frankly, it is depressing. Weasel said I should do it anyway since it’ll illustrate how I’m feeling. I think about my life and I cannot remember the majority of my childhood [I blame the medications I had as a teenager]. What I do remember seems to be more bleak than anything. I think I’ve had five good years out of 27. I never felt like I was excellent at anything, I’m a study in mediocrity. I don’t have much to show for my life. And now that I’ve been interrupted getting my oomph back is proving difficult.