The last couple of weeks have been a bit of a blur. Bladder buggerations, Dipstick gone awol likewise his office gone tits up. The infamous Jerome trying valiantly to coverup and help out. New SciFi sounding bug has hit, he tentatively suggested iv. I could not would not reply. Bladder implant I’ve switched off. Dipstick needs to work out if the leads have migrated. The rep asked him, I asked him, but no rush eh? well, that’ll be a job for next year judging by the responses we’ve had. IE ZERO.

Normally I write this Daily Stent to absorb my screams of frustration. My incandescent swearing.

But Hark, a tad earlier than expected a tiny little Emkes has arrived. Daughter 1 has had unbelievably traumatic time for the last 7 years, has safely and brilliantly got herself through this next stage of her young life. Her story is not mine to tell.

I can tell you though, that I can’t shout, or swear, or frankly move . I’ve been to Mothercare so many times the assistant knows be by name. Sainsbury’s , helped me to my car because my shopping revealed  my new status, ( the discount Bolly,nestled in the nappies, gave it away). In addition my car has some amazing piece of machinery permanently installed so I can transport baby.  My new status must be etched on my face, as I’ve been offered a seat on a train AND a tube. #Unheardof

So whilst trying to stuff antibiotics all I need to do is hold on to this wonderful little baby, type with one finger and try to forget  the rubbishness of bugs in bladders, kicking kidney, screaming spine and dopey dipstick.

What shall I be called? The jury is still out. But the odds favour: ‘GaGa’!,!