Honestly, for someone affected very negatively by stress, on the face of things I don't make life easier for myself. No sooner is the wedding stress out of the way than I pitch face first into a writing marathon.
That's not to say the seizures have stopped. No, they're still plodding along at more or less one a day. Mind you, I'd put that more down to the nice little health Questionnaire that ATOS sent me a few weeks ago to make sure I'm not a fraud, and the rather daunting prospect of changing my name in goodness knows how many places (I haven't even started that task yet) or the great big wodge of a form that I have to fill out for my CBT. (Honestly, the thing would work equally well as a draught excluder. And while I know all the questions are important, filling them out has been killing my hand!)
Oh, and did I tell you I finally got a response from my MP? I wrote to her, way back in August, and apparently in September she replied. Only, somehow I only got the letter in November. Despite the fact that her office is around the corner from me, so it would only ever have to go via the local sorting office, which is, oh, let's say a ten-minute walk away? I'll be charitable and say it got lost in the post, or someone accidentally dropped it down the side of a desk or something, because she did say that she'd written to both the head of the local health care trust and Andrew Lansley, asking the former why local access to specialists was so poor, and the latter how he plans to address the "provision for epilepsy patients more generally". So, not too shabby. It may not actually achieve anything, but it's better than nothing.
And so, to round off a much-longer-than-I-expected post, here is a picture of me in wedding attire, because I've read that people who read blogs like such things:
...Well, it was the only
one of just me.
