It's been a week of sputum tests and a visit to the Doctor.  Simon is quite relieved that the pain in his chest is possibly scar tissue from his recent episode of pneumonia.  He was afraid that the infection hadn't cleared up.  When he thinks this the problem grows in his mind.

He's also been able to have some of his chronic medication paid for on an on-going basis by medical aid. The balance of his needs are supplied free by Addington Hospital which is a life line.  It would cripple us financially if it weren't.

The following step to be dealt with over the next week or so is to secure a disability grant; a long process of endless queues and 'couldn't-care-less-it's-my-tea-break' officials.  There is also certification needed from the District-Surgeon which, in itself, is a hurdle of ignorance to be cleared.  Simon did manage a while ago to get a grant for six months and was told 'that should be sufficient time to recover from your Cystic Fibrosis'.  So here we go again to arm wrestle with the man in the white coat.  But I mustn't get started with my history of 35 years dealing with the medical profession.  Well not yet!