Yes, I suppose one could reasonably say that my Respiratory ailments are very nearly like clockwork, or at least timely on a yearly basis. 

I've been to the surgery, been given the same instructions (fluids and rest) and the same medications to treat the same wheezing breath, congested lungs and coughing fits.  I'm sequestered to a bedroom without telly, but I've books, a computer and a radio as well.  Jolly good isn't it?

I'm not moaning.  If it seems so it's likely only a product of my personal fear that I may end up in hospital again.  I suppose I'm a bit grumpy as well because I'm not keen on having to burden those around me.

Here you may see my view today.  A dark room on a rainy day, Dickens by my side, Computer in my lap, medicines on the nightstand (doesn't appear in picture) and Michael's clothes on the floor (also not in the photograph thankfully).

Bedroom1        

I would have captured my mother or Michael on the way in with a tray of little nibbles (mostly savoury biscuits and broth) but both objected to being photographed.  At least they don't look dishevelled.  I dare not show my face here.  You all would die of fright. 

Must find something to do.  I have tried to sleep but cannot rest for trying to breathe!  Dear heavens, what can be done for this?

Waiting... that is what is required.  Obeying the Doctor's orders and waiting to improve.  

Any suggestions for entertainment?