pflegefehler

My involvement is not desired. So maybe I am, but only if I do it according to my care provider's idea. Not in the way I think makes sense.

That's how close together they are, praise and blame. Everything back to square one. What an irony that the PDL and GF have announced themselves. There would be a need for optimisation.

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

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.

We are still talking about my eyes, nose and teeth. Not to mention my decubitus behind my ear, which of course has not improved one bit.

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

There's nothing to lose. As of today, I'm quitting, starting my own company and poaching Matthias, July and indeed Tom.

The nurse who, despite photographs of evidence, cannot be convinced that tightly stretched ligaments cause pain.

This should have been a completely different post with my photo of the month. But somehow my chat with a friend today fits my mood better.