… idea about what is going on at the dialysis centre right now. After Thursday’s controversies, I seem to have been left in limbo. It’s not true to say that there was no doctor on duty today because I definitely caught a glimpse of Emilie the Cute Consultant at some point, but nevertheless, no-one seems to be interested in following up the examination that took place on Thursday.

It’s a shame, because it all seemed to be going so very well today. It actually started last night, even though I was feeling so ill. I’d dashed through my notes yet again and was, for once, actually in bed by 22:30, something that has not happened for quite some considerable time.

Even more rare than that, I slept right the way through until the alarm went off at 06:29, and I can’t even begin to think when was the last time that that happened. Mind you, I was totally exhausted after the previous night when I don’t think that I slept at all.

It took, as usual these days, an age to raise myself from the Dead and head off to the bathroom. I had a good wash and scrub up, and even washed my undies in the sink. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that, from my days of living out of a suitcase, it’s very important that I keep on top of the washing.

After the medication, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was in South Africa last night, in a column with the British Army that was attacking the Boers in World War I. The Boers had decided for self-administration, they were armed and had risen up. The British had sent several armies to confront them, but at first things went horribly for the British and they were pushed back after three major battles. Everyone in this dream wanted to rise up and go again on the attack but the Prince of Vietnam wanted to hold on until new weapons were available because they were on the verge of coming up with something that worked over a distance and the cannons were not as successful as they had hoped that they would be. They were effectively living with the girl’s mother.

The first part of that is easy to explain. Yesterday, I was reading about the opening battles of the Boer War in South Africa, the three major opening battles that left the British with a very bloody nose and the four “Creusot” Long Tom artillery pieces that the Boers acquired. Where the dream goes after that, with the Prince of Vietnam and the girl’s mother, I have absolutely no idea where this fits in with anything. But then again, that’s nothing new.

Isabelle the Nurse breezed in, and once more, I’m in her bad books. I obtained the prescription for the injections that I am supposed to have after chemotherapy, but apparently I forgot to ask for the prescription for the visiting nurse to inject me with them. But what do I know about all of this?

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of BATTLES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.

Our author, Colonel Carrington, is discussing the Battle of Bunker Hill that was in effect the first major battle of the American Revolution. The British in Boston attacked the Americans who were entrenched on Bunker Hill and Breed’s Hill, and although they won a major victory, albeit at terrific cost, the complete and utter lack of a strategic master plan left the British at a loss as to what to do next.

It was this type of indecision that in later battles eventually ended up with the British being expelled from what became the USA.

Back in here, I had plenty of things to do and in the hour that remained, I attacked my Welsh homework. It’s almost finished now, so I’ll do the rest tomorrow and send it off so that I’ll have it back by Tuesday. Then I can crack on with the next one which will be due in a week or so’s time.

My faithful cleaner came down to sort out the anaesthetic on my arm, and then I had a rather long wait for the taxi to take me to dialysis.

We also had to pass by Champeaux to pick up another passenger, so the driver took me on a series of very interesting rural roads. Just outside Champeaux we drove past the ruins of the Léproserie Saint-Blaise– the old leper hospital from the Middle Ages.

We were late arriving at the dialysis centre and once more, I had to wait a while to be plugged in.

And herein lies the disappointment. They told me on Thursday that my dry weight had been over-estimated by 2kg, so I’ve been on a very thin diet and have drunk almost nothing at all to prepare myself for a massive drainage session today. Based on the previous dry weight, I had just 1.7kg to eliminate instead of the usual 2.8 or 2.9 so I was well-prepared.

However, to my astonishment, the doctor who attended to the session on Thursday hadn’t altered my dry weight to the new revised figure so instead of the machine running at the maximum 950g/hour as I was expecting, it was a very sedate stroll along at 480g/hour. It seems that I had been depriving myself for no good purpose, and that’s really annoying.

Just you wait until Monday when they tell me that I have to stay for four hours at the max!

That wasn’t all either. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that yesterday I mentioned these dizzy spells and hallucinations that I’d been having. Towards the end of the session, they started up again and the dizzy spell was by far the worst that I have had.

Mind you, I didn’t say anything to anyone. There isn’t much point. They would probably just offer me a Doliprane and cut the session short, and then I’d be in an even worse position than I am now.

When the session ended, I had an interminable wait until they came to unplug and compress me, and then I could leave, about an hour later than planned.

In contrast to the driver who took me to dialysis who hardly said a word throughout the entire journey, it was another one of the interesting, chatty drivers who brought me home. We talked a lot about, would you believe, women’s rugby but also about travelling.

There was a howling gale blowing here when I returned, so in view of that and my dizzy spells, my cleaner and my driver had to help me into the apartment. I was glad to sit down.

She had been to the chemist’s this afternoon and fetched the latest supply of medication, and there is more to come, especially the injections that I need.

Tea was a baked potato with vegan nuggets and a small salad, because I’m still not hungry at all. The good news though is that having sent an e-mail to the doctor in Paris about the injections, he had sent me the missing part of the prescription, so Isabelle the Nurse should be happy, I hope.

Me too, because I’m off to bed now, and I really do need my sleep. All of this is just so tiring. I don’t understand what is happening to me right now in this respect. Gone are the days when I could work for thirty-six hours and more, non-stop, with no problem at all.

But seeing as we have been talking about dizzy spells … "well, one of us has" – ed … I mentioned to someone at the dialysis centre a while back that I’d been having the odd dizzy spell now and again.
"That’s terrible" she said. "Do you have vertigo?"
"Ohh yes" I replied. "It’s a forty-five-minute drive to Granville."