I rang my doctor's surgery today, as it was the sixth working day after last week's adventure in NHS care. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't worried about the outcome (after all, what's the use of worrying?), but family and friends were asking (I love you all too...). The result - I have a chest, there are no unexpected presences or absences, and I can resume coughing as I see fit. There is no suggestion that I should return and have anything else done, or administered, so I had better get on with it.
A fellow work colleague has suggested some time in a hot, dry climate, which sounds very inviting. However, I am bound, in less than a fortnight, for a hot, polluted climate, which may not be very helpful.
I'd better pack some cough sweets...
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