I had my rheumy appointment this morning at the Royal Free Hospital. My consultant was there, but there were so many patients she had 3 registrars also dealing with the queue - a result I suppose of rheumatology no longer being regarded as an emergency service, as the department gopher explained to me a while ago. I saw a nice young female doctor, who was very amenable to a slow taper. This was a relief as I've been apprehensive about what happens when I reduce from 10 mg to single figures. Also she didn't mention bisphosphonates which came as an added bonus.
Given the gorgeous weather, I then walked up to Keats House and ate my packed lunch on a bench in the garden - no nightingale these days of course, but a blackbird singing beautifully and a couple of parakeets squawking. I couldn't help thinking about that sublime genius who died of TB at 25, along with the millions of more ordinary mortals who died young because they didn't have the benefits that we now take for granted. So, much as we rightly research and question our doctors' advice, essentially we have to acknowledge that medically things have improved beyond what could have even been imagined 200 years ago.