It's becoming psychologically quite hard for me to go out at all (so it's probably just as well that I have to leave the house to take Sanders during the week.) I've had so much more asthma this year and have had to take more and more prednisolone with the inevitable result that my face is beginning to balloon. It's horrible. I didn't notice so much in the past. Maybe I had less time to look in the mirror or maybe it didn't happen so suddenly so I got used to it. Whatever. This time I see my mouth disappearing into the 'cushioning' and wonder if breathing is worth it. M's son, who has a potentially deteriorating eye condition controlled by the same drug, hated his blown up face so much he has persuaded his doctor to prescribe injections which he can give himself and which seem to make him thin rather than fat. I suppose I'm not extreme enough (and probably don't have to take such a heavy dosage) for the NHS to shell out for that variation of treatment. It's expensive.
Never mind. There's always swine flu.
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