I hate the cold and I'm moving to Florida.

Current Update: So. I am off work sick. The cold makes me unable to get out of bed, which is not all that good for one's teaching career. This is only actually the second day I've missed this week - the joy of being on an 18-hour alternate days contract. I'm hoping to be back by Friday. The doctor, having made me sit in the waiting room for fifty minutes, gave me two minutes of her time (because obviously it was my fault she was running behind). The first thing she asked was why I was using crutches. Then she reluctantly agreed to sign me off for 'two to three days' (so precise, so helpful, so utterly stupid for having no frigging idea what happens to the body of a person with several conditions when they all start interacting because of the cold, and if I want a whole week I'm bloody well taking it. Mainly because I can't get out of bed). Then she said she'd look into the pain clinic for me. Just like the other GP was supposed to a month ago. I love the NHS to death. (My own, probably.) Then she told me to get a flu jab (but I'd have to come back later that day, which of course is so easy when it takes me all day to recover from having to make my way up there and back). Then it was clear she wanted me out of there. I'm going to book all my appointments in advance, with the decent doctor, from now on. It will mean waiting twenty years, of course. By which time I'll be feeling better.

But in more interesting news, yesterday I met a very accommodating person from the local Physical Disabilities Team (oh how wonderfully medical model). All she really did was ask us what we wanted. This was good, as The Girl - who represents her country in Talking at the Olympics - did a lot of saying how I *like* my wheelchair and crutches. Sometimes I talked, too. In between panic attacks. Anyway, she was very supportive, and is going to send a copy of her report to Evil EDS Physio. This may or may not help matters. The waiting list for physio with these people is months just for six sessions, so who knows whether it'll happen. But at least I stood up for myself. Briefly.

Leeds Update: I forgot to say how much I enjoyed visiting Leeds, didn't I? 'Twas fab. I need to write letters of complaint to GNER (for the amazing disappearing ramp that was nowhere to be seen at the station at Leeds), to Travelodge (for the amazing wheelchair-accessible room that becomes non-accessible between booking and arriving), and to God (for all the amazing sodding hills). The representatives of the Equality Service, the Accommodations office and the department were all marvellous. The dept people were so laid back that I got quite confused. They said "See you next year" so they must have liked me. I still need to write the actual application form. I'm getting there with it, although it rather sounds like I'm disappearing up my own backside a lot. Striking a balance between "I am but an ignorant fool who wants to sit at your feet and learn everything that there is to know, O great academic heroes" and "I'm too awesome for this course" is hard. Especially when you're bipolar.

And now I crawl back to the kitchen for another cuppa, changing the DVD on my way, as it could be a while until I can get up again. Anyone for Buffy?