The English Patient

My Monday Self Portrait.

Continuing my documentary on facial surgery, this'll be week eight since my face was cut in half. You can hardly tell now..... I can. At the hospital today they tweaked the cats cradle of elastic bands that criss cross me gob and told me to "exercise" more extremely.

Mrs Cph (who has been outstanding in her support and understanding during all this) pointed out to me that it was quite a thing to do in a foreign language. I hadn't really thought about that before or during but looking back on it, the disorientation after the operation was a little surreal and three days in hospital not being able to speak properly let alone in a second language. (When I came round there was a catheter issue and no familiar faces.) Although I don't always speak Danish, my life is immeasurably better for being fluent in it. (Ex-pats - take note .....and no excuses - I'm dyslexic).


Sorry for the long entry and the overly patriotic shades but it all seemed appropriate 'cos it's the Olympics and it's my journal.