Lili Medicine

First of all, many thanks for all your good wishes, kind comments and hearts for Friday. They’re all much appreciated, especially your support and kindness in terms of my hospital procedure.  

The night in hospital is predictably unpleasant. Last time I was an inpatient I had the luxury of my own room, but now I’m on a ward.  We all have televisions, but there is no headphone facility, so there is a cacophony of different channels with the bleeping of machines as an added extra. I’m expecting an early ‘lights out’ - I’m pretty shattered - but the two people next to me have their TVs on AND chat well into the night (well around 1.00 pm) 

I’ve had paracetamol but I’m waiting for the more heavy duty stuff which I now need and eventually it arrives, just in time for the woman next to me start to crying out because of pain - though she’s refused the Oramorph she’s offered ……..

Anyway, the night eventually passes and I’m allowed up - with help. Moving and walking is painful, but my legs definitely feel better than they did before the operation.  My blood pressure is still low so it’s not surprising that I feel lightheaded when I’m out of bed, and I’m ordered to up my fluid intake. 

There’s a doctors’ round and I’m given the all clear to go home - though I’m warned that it’s likely to be mid-afternoon before the paperwork is completed. G is with me by now which makes things much easier, and by about 3.00pm I’m allowed to go. 

I’m comfortable in the car, and ask if we can stop off at Meols on the way home - I really want some Lili time. She’s very wary of me at first though it’s only a couple of weeks since she’s seen me. Of course, I’m far from looking at my best and she doesn’t seem to recognise me. Eventually, I get that heart-melting smile which is better than any medication! 

Back to the car and the journey home. There are no traffic problems, but on the final stretch we come close to being involved a really dreadful accident. The motorcyclist in front of us has a tyre blow out and loses control of the bike which ends up in the central reservation while he spins across the carriageway. G manages to stop, as does the rest of the traffic, and amazingly, the cyclist gets to his feet apparently unscathed - all this miraculous when we had all been travelling at 70mph. G and two other drivers help to move the bike to the hard shoulder, and, assured the cyclist’s OK, we get on our way. 

At home, our neighbours have left a meal in the fridge for us to microwave, and I settle down to the relief and bliss of being at home, the operation successfully behind me.