In the middle of talking at Barbara’s I couldn’t help coughing. No-one else was. In the middle of dinner with Kate and John, I coughed. She said I was unwell. Adrian said I was losing weight! The morning of going for a second time to the doctor’s with the cough and continual throat-clearing I blew blood into tissues. It had been a night of six hours insomnia with cold sweat prickling, tickling out my back.
The surgery still haven’t found my silk glove lining I’d dropped. “There was a tear in the veil of the universe,” I said, ” and went it came together again, the glove was gone. Don’t you ever do any cleaning?”
The doctor sounded my back and looked but not far enough down my throat. The deep throat tickle centre or catch wasn’t viewable. I went for an x-ray which hurt my chest but didn’t reach high enough to the catch in my throat. It was a catch never-caught 22 situation. I haven’t coughed once doing this!