At home

I had to call the doctor again. This isn't getting any better, and I pleaded with him to let me stay at home. Please no Mater Dei. And he's relented because I told him I would go completely psycho. I really would. Staying in bed with the cats and the dogs is a much better idea. And I promised I'd be a good girl, no smoking. I don't think I can smoke anyway, this breathing problem is driving me round the bend, I just cough for dear life and now my ribs hurt. It's as if my ribs have gone horse riding or on a long hike. Or perhaps someone has walked on them with high heels without having been invited. I hate hospitals, and nurses too. I wonder where the nurse fetish comes from. Certainly not from me. And I don't like the beds, the bedding, the compartments which mimic privacy. What privacy? If I just so much as sneezed, I'd be heard. That's no privacy. I hate the smell too. Deviant smell. It's the smell of corpses' deodorant. How the hell could I breathe that? So I'm staying here. I'm in for a terrible night I know. But at least it'll be here in my own home.