Tuesday, 7 August 2012


Well, I seem to be home.  One minute they were threatening me with further treatment, the next a lady arrived to take me to the Patients Lounge for discharge without letting me eat my sweet and sour pork.  I think they must have had a call for beds (a suspicion reinforced when 5 others from my ward turned up in the lounge).  I spent my first hours of freedom sitting in the garden or the garden window (depending on the sun) and drinking real tea.  To be honest, everything tastes of cardboard at the moment and I have no real interest in food at all, but that will change.

This (you’ll be pleased to hear) will be the only post about my hospitalisation.  And even this won’t be gruesome (unless you're Italian or French or maybe Algerian).

If you can imagine the UK as my head (where else?), Europe as my chest and Africa as my lower bod, the original intention was to remove Sardinia in a fairly non-intrusive procedure.   But they decided that it was Italy that was causing all the problems (as ever) and removed that too, as well as half of Sicily.  They then took off part of the Cote d’Azure, the coast of Tunisia and a chunk of the coast of Algeria and joined them all together.

The downside – I’m never quite sure now whether the uncomfortable twinges and stabs I can feel are from the surgery, whether they are protests from Algeria about being permanently joined to France (or vice versa), whether I’m hungry, full up or whether I need to dash off to the loo.  You know how it is when baby’s are born.  They cry when they’re hungry, they cry when they’re full, they cry when they soil their nappies, etc.  Well, it’s a bit like that (apart from the nappy thing).  I suppose I’ll get to know what’s what, as I get used to the new geography.

I’m now embarking on a programme of building up strength.  It may take some time.  After chatting for half an hour on my return home, I had to sleep for an hour.  But I guess that’ll improve too.  Not sure how many posts I’ll manage; more as time goes on I guess, but thinking is still quite tiring.  The really difficult part of all this is that doctors assure me that there is nothing I should have done or should not have done in my life to avoid the surgery.  Every time the nurses take my obs, they say ‘wow, great blood sugar levels’, or ‘what do you do to get great veins like this’, or ‘that’s a brilliant pulse rate’, etc.  So, what do you do?  All very depressing.  I know I said thanks before for all your support, but sincerely thanks again.  Your messages did help cheer me up.  

The upside now is I’m over a stone lighter.  The other is that whenever I feel those twinges and stabs, as I do at the moment, I don’t waste time wondering what it means, I just go and eat.  Talk to you later.

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