My new health issue is keeping me in a state of discomfort
tonight, as it does much of the time. I suppose I should see a doctor about it (not that
it’s easy to actually
see a doctor during
these troubled times), but I’m tired of the attention of clinicians, tired of
investigations and procedures, tired of waiting for results, tired of the
hassle involved with attending the Royal Derby Hospital, tired of being told I
mustn’t drive for a month, and tired of people trying to coerce me into taking
yet more medications. I’m holding to the view at the moment that when you get older
your body starts falling apart and that’s just how it is. I’m the biggest fan
of the NHS because they saved my life four years ago, but I’d much rather its
bountiful ministrations were heaped on other people while I was able to stay
under the radar.
And I’ve had a frustrating, stressful day today, courtesy of
E.ON Next (my energy supplier) and Epson (the manufacturer of my printer.) I
think I’ve made it quite clear that I’m no friend of the denizens of the corporate
world these days. I understand why they try to force you into doing things
their way – although I greatly dislike it and fight against it as much as
possible – but what I don’t understand is how, given the wealth, technical
expertise and university degrees at their disposal, they manage to be so
dysfunctional.
And now I’m whingeing again. I dislike myself when I whinge,
but yesterday’s niceness reversed its polarity today. I suppose it’s just an
example of having to pay for everything you get, and maybe instant karma is
better than building up a debit balance.
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