Bread is not black

After the plasmapheresis we had to wait. To the pharmacy with my ImmuGlobulins. During this time I went to my ward and was introduced to the new blood pressure monitors with the others. Afterwards I had important visitors, which made me really happy. Our ex-Bufdi knocked on the door. It finally took until 3:30 p.m. before I got my first bottle. Suddenly everything was there again. The tingling sensation, the red toes and fingers. A slight rash crawled up the tops of my feet. Break. Administered cortisone (yay…..) and Tavegil, which put me to sleep straight away. If I get an infection on top of that, I wouldn't be surprised given the improper treatment of my Shaldon. At least she could have disinfected her hands.

Then it continued with additional liquid running in parallel.

Dinner was a bit chaotic. In the afternoon the service staff tried to note down my wishes. Later she came again, as if someone had reset her and wanted to know everything again. Then she just brought my neighbor food and me some soup. “Uh, well I wanted my bread. “Black bread.” So she brought me the plate with a slice of brown bread on it. My slight moan couldn't be ignored, so my neighbor jumped up to get me some brown bread. “There is no black bread, but this is with grains, but this is brown!”

Yes, okay, bread is not black, but gray bread is not gray either. In any case, it better not be...