Not my Arthritis Doctor - and a flare up, right hand

This will be a very short blog owing to arthritis flare-up in my right hand. Very very painful and difficult.   We saw my Arthritis doctor yesterday - not my usual one,who has retired early - sad about that as he has been so good to me. A nice young lad was standing in.  And the results of my Coeliac blood test were with him. They are negative. Which is good, but it leaves the cause of this Eczema unknown.

My shoulder x-ray was OK too. Which is a relief.

To pad out my blog, I will include a poem I wrote many years ago, about my mother's arthritis, and about a friend who found that the terraced house she had been renting out was in a very neglected state.

IN THIS OLD HOUSE

 by me

In this old house all is still within

And nothing moves inside us

Except the thing that eats the bones

Can they isolate the virus?

She pulls the skirting board away

To show a heart stopping display of white

So we’ll call the specialists to her home

As the deadly stuff eats up her bones

But if Rentokil will not suffice

Her bones will lock in blocks of ice

The value of her house will tumble in a trice.

It seems a bit of an unfinished and undigested poem to me looking at it now.  But it was what I wrote when I was young.