Diary

Weed? I did. Write about it? I'm just starting to. For today, I'd like to revisit the questions I couldn't answer at the time, or only half-answered.

My first post at two to, not two past twelve. I went among the poets. My carers have found my blog.

Aren't I nice? I don't want an upgrade. I don't want more money. I just want the lies to disappear from the report. The MDK came up with all the rest themselves.

As if I'm magically attracted to that. Or a note stuck to my forehead that says "Give my doctors and me something to do, we're bored".

I have no idea how this works exactly. I don't need to. You don't need to know everything. You just have to know who to ask.

My ears are almost deaf. At least now I don't have to put up with my carers constantly phoning Mummy.

Date wrong, diagnosis wrong, course of illness wrong. This is how you successfully defend yourself against an unjust MDK report.

What a rude act. The MDK thinks they know better than the experts from the German Muscular Dystrophy Society. What do we know?

When it comes to paying, everyone shifts the blame to the others and time goes by comfortably. And the benefits I am entitled to are not paid.

Did someone claim that everything is optional equipment at Audi? At least all five of mine had a seat. Unlike my Rollis...