I can't believe it's nearly a fortnight since I posted. Getting hold of the antibiotics was far harder than it needed to be. I'm not sure where the breakdown occured, but they were issued at 7:30 pm, having been requested at 11 am. I'd already packed my overnight bag. If they weren't issued I was getting myself admitted for them to be administered by IV drip.
The hospital might have been the sensible option. I was contemplating many things, one being upping my steroids and bolting down mtx tablets that I still had. I could shut down my entire immune system, so that I wouldn't succumb to the dreaded cytokine storm in my lungs. Fear is an incredible motivator.
Thankfully I decided to just pop my first pill, stay up for the 2nd and set the alarm for the 3rd. The antibiotics are aptly named 'rescue packs'. They are a couple of quid, and for me they can pull me back from the brink within 48 hrs. Prior to the NICE directive guaranteeing me them it's led to a couple of week long stays in hospital.
I teeter on the brink of transplantation. Too fit to be on the list, but only a step away from being too ill to be considered. "You are walking on a knife edge Doug."
Sorry, I'm rambling. It's possible that 18 mths of warnings that I'm likely to be fubared if I step foot outside have taken their toll.
NB. Aside from the last 3 weeks, my greatest annoyance has been the removal of restrictions for the shielded. It was momentous, it was liberating. It was terrifying. The general population had 6/9 months to adapt to the restrictions. The shielded were dropped straight into it. A lot of the support was terminated effective immediately.
In summary- I should have said I'm fine Brown Nose
I'll be getting my 3rd jab asap.
I'll reschedule my flu jab.
I'll order another rescue pack.
And I'll not be so complacent. Hands, Face & Space