The dark sleek heads are risen from the water
Home from six days in hospital with a plan designed not to land me back there any time soon, I have been passed into the care of Dr. Hestia, who is already carrying out her duties with enthusiastic ministrations of purr. I have washed my hair for the first time in a week. I have eaten food prepared by my family. I napped like a stone in the late afternoon, which I will have needed since my regimen for the foreseeable involves a schedule of medications I cannot let slide even when some of them require me to be awake at hours I have preferred my entire life to spend unconscious. My calendar is inevitably full of further maintenance, but I am truly looking forward to an increase in conversations that have nothing to do with the monitoring of my vitals. Mostly I am marrow-tired and vague with new chemistry and glad to be home in my own clothes and drinking water I don't have to ring anyone to bring me in bed. I was not expecting and delight in the gift of a plush harpy eagle that arrived while I was away.

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Hail, Dr. Hestia, most intuitive and pastoral of voids.
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So glad to hear you are home again! <3<3<3 (Good luck with all the rest.)
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Keep up your good work, Dr. Hestia.
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That is a lot! Glad you're home, and glad you have Dr Hestia.
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My mother was prescribed a bunch of stuff as "life critical and time critical" due to the ongoing endocrine weirdness, but checking what precisely was needed over a period of months (because getting care organisations to commit to giving meds at a particular time is all but impossible) actually turned up most of them not actually being time critical and the ones that were having quite a bit of leeway. So timing may potentially be something that can be nibbled at in ongoing discussions with your tame medics.
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I was glad to see in comments that your time-critical sleep-disturbing medication schedule does not involve any more needles.
I think of you a lot. *hugs*
P.
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*hugs*
Nine
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