Had quite a good day yesterday in terms of getting my point across and starting to see some real progress where my treatment is concerned – I will try to update the Diary of an Anti-Patient to provide a bit more detail.

But then the quality of medical treatment was never a concern. And I know full well, I don’t exactly fit the mould. And truth be told I do have a hand in the creating the near-catastrophe my life has seemed to become.

However, the thoughts running through my brain yesterday were not quite so lofty and magnanimous, as at 3.45pm after concluding my business for the day at Gosford Hospital, once more that old devil called Loki deployed another, by now quite familiar, logistical gremlin.

I was quite keen to get home, also because I had not been able to have (read:afford) breakfast yet and had been operating on a cup off coffee and Kinson.

This time, the bus driver genuinely offered some alternatives, ” You can also pay with a debit card or cash.”

Made it home around 7.30 knowing I would not be able to buy any dinner but lo and behold, just as I shuffled the last couple of metres to my doorstep, I saw some Pixie had left a very generous curry with all the trimmings.

It was just delivered, so still piping hot and delicious. There was no note or anything but I knew it must have been ordered from that excellent Saint Ingrid’s of Five Dock Hyper-Intuitive Delivery Service.

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