You knock back the Xmas plonk. I'll just plank ...
Today marks the end of my first month since my hospital discharge. Though a fair number of naysaying medical professionals (plus their legal lap & attack dogs) have emphatically & consistently stated the contrary, I remain medically (and perhaps at some point in the future, visually also) fit. So ... *blows raspberry* !
It wasn't until September that I fell into the safer hands of a particular association of nurses & doctors; and not until October that I fully escaped the clammy grasp of persecution, and nestled in the bosom of longstandingly accredited consultants whose experience of similar cases lent a tangible veracity to my cause. Being back on my own two feet isn't to claim that what hasn't killed me has made me stronger, but my stance is more wobbly than precarious. So Merry Xmas y'all and, if you see a bag of bones & gristle falling flat to the floor during htis festive period, don't automatically assume I've dropped dead. It's far more likely that I'm planking, in protest against a medical diagnosis that one would think had been made by people as thick as two short planks; and should Santa grant my Xmas wish, they'll be walking a very short plank - or at least the straight & narrow.