A good woman

So where are we? Well I am probably in exactly the same spot that I was in yesterday as I can't move off it. It is very disturbing to not be able to move your foot or lower leg when you feel you might appreciate an exciting change of scene. The physio says to send the signals down as the muscles need to remember the twitch but I get no twitch. I really need to be able to shift my bum but those close to me know that was always the case. It is a priority though and I will let the physios try to help me today.

I am eternally grateful for being a brummie at the moment. It wont mean much to you if you are not one but the nurses and porters with their quips and normalness are keeping me going. I quip back and I am me again. And we have a broad Dublin night sister who Is amazing, she is super efficient and puts the doctors right and she will gossip and exclaim and ask us about ourselves. She keeps proclaiming that we are good women and she may have something there. We have our whitterer who keeps sloping off to blow her hair and a couple who could do with cracking their faces but generally we endure with grace. Last night we had a spiritual moment. Those of you who read my blog will know I don't go in for such stuff but the lady in the corner who had had a really bad day had about 18 of her family around, they had her in stitches most of the night and stayed on after closing time. Then this lovely song drifted across the ward, all in perfect gospel harmony. Ok god did get a mention but it was all about being together in love. It hit the spot albeit a bit weepily.

And now I am the proud bearer of a portacath, inserted yesterday afternoon after a whole day of nil by mouth. A trip to the new hospital over the link and then to another gaggle of people ready for a laugh and to treat me like me. Scots this time so further back into my history. Apparently they sliced and inserted but I was off with the fairies and didn't feel a thing. Itsbecoming the story of my life.