Winding up?
After seven weeks here, it looks like I might be getting out of hospital soon. A couple more scans, one of which will, hopefully, confirm that I don’t need an ICD, then home on maybe Friday or Monday.
I’ve had a few bad days, recently. On Sunday, the pain of my chest incision and in my back just would not go away. And, yesterday, I went downstairs to the river to eat supper with Matte, my sisters, my Mum and cousin, waved them all off, came back upstairs and felt so tensely gripped by tiredness, I got into bed and went straight to sleep. Nights are the worst. Though it is a huge relief to be free of Monty the heart monitor and Johnny Drip – though not, of course, iPhone – my routine runs: take drugs at ten p.m., sleep, wake at two a.m. going ouch, take more drugs, sleep, wake about five or six a.m., sit up and feel the ouch dissolve from my torso, or take more drugs at eight a.m.
Lots of people have visited. This is like an injection of real life and is so reviving, so necessary.
Matte has been here since Saturday. It has been heavenly. We have held hands and she has given me massages and we have pashed next to the hospital bed and in the lift and she has read to me and she has gone to get us noodles and pizza and we have started planning a holiday in a cottage in Cornwall. Today, she left London to return home to pack and she will then travel to Belgium for a protest camp. She will spend a bit of time in Brighton on the way back [heart tug, tears], then go to her Mum’s civil partnership ceremony, then come to visit me in Cambridge.