Keep watching

Sorry folks won't be able to update the blog until Wednesday at the earliest now. Quick resume so you know the jist.

Went home last Wednesday, all fine
Thursday developed dreadful urinary infection, delirium, total madness
Back in hospital
Friday whoozy but better
Had ct scan on brain, no mets but showed recent bleed caused by urinary madness
They need to observe for 5 days
If I become confused they operate- very simple bit of black and deckering (drilling)

All a bit dramatic and it's a good job I have a good book on the go: Sophie"s Choice. Not a cheery tale I know but I am loving every minute of it

Last night we had a party on the ward for our friend Chris and so I am making the best of a bad job as ever.

Watch this space

Have promised a blog update. Bear with me it will be posted by Monday.

I am fine

Watch this space

Have promised a blog update. Bear with me it will be posted by Monday.

I am fine

I nearly had my skirt on and was out the door

Washed, packed up, all in place then they found some blood in my poo. Poo indeed.

Seems I've had too much laxative and too much blood thinner and so I have to stay, hopefully only till tomorrow.

We will get there

I used to...

I used to run like the wind, I can still feel the spiky grass between my toes, the rush to the tape

I used to go like a train, dance like a demon

I have shopped till I dropped, I've mopped, plopped and slopped

The books, the laughs, the winces, the wit, the love, the lust, the politics, the dreams

They happen in my head and heart not my legs. They still do.

Escape still looks god for tomorrow.

Getting out

Today we have a meeting: me, Stewart, Jo the OT manager, Monica the discharge manager and Maureen, the social worker. All on first name terms here. I am no stranger to meetings. I have asked for criteria, I think I have my head round it, and if I don' t god help any other poor bugger struggling with this.

It is an assessment of what I need. A plan will emerge and budgets will be discussed. Trouble is they have to manage me and I have set them a deadline of Friday to be out, they pale, they twitch, so they should.

Not only that they have my political standpoint to reckon with and I have never been good at compromising that, nor will I be. It comes down to whether you are covered by the social or the health. Social you pay, health you don't. I get Disabled Living Allowance now so I am happy to give them that. Beyond that I am not happy.

You see I believe that even Georgie boy Osborne, or dodgy David Cameron ( god you'd never go out with them would you?) with all of their millions should not have to pay for care when they become immobile and doubly incontinent. As long as we have screwed them for every penny of tax on exactly the same terms that we pay, no fancy accountants, no respectable fiddles. Not going to happen I know but we can dream.

So what do I need, simple really, I want Stewart to become the fastest hoister in the west, I don't want to have to wait for some other bugger to turn up if I want to go on the bed or into a chair. I want a daily health check on my vitals and my pipes. Frankly I think we could do the rest but I may give into a personal comfort visit a day just so Stewart doesn't end up doing all their jobs for them. Apart from that we may get a cleaner but that was always the case and then there's the asses milk and good food guides. We will cover those. Don't think the rest will break the bank and if they haven't got it sorted by Friday, I will, it's what I do. To get out we will get a car with ramp and winch, oh how sexy.

And to help matters I find I am quite whizzo in a wheelchair. I was tazzing round the ward yesterday and my famed lack of ability to do a three point turn is a myth engendered by others.

Taste the difference

I am carving my own gastronomic fate here in Bourneville ward where there is no chocolate. You will have gathered that food plays a big part in my life as I have eulogised over the best gastronomy of France, Italy, Wales even. When I got the death sentence I took it on myself to make every meal, a meal to remember; quite a challenge for those around me. I have planned trips, scoured guides. Thank goodness the chemo didn't alter my taste buds and thank goodness my nearest and dearest like to eat too. And we are catholic in our tastes so Dad's Lane fish and chips and the pensioners' egg and chip special up the co-op feature in my drooling.

Being in hospital does not suit these foodie passions one little bit so I am on hunger strike from their slop. I have tried to down it, tried to make the best of a bad job, but it's no good, it's not worth the candle. I don't have a massive appetite as I am hardly using up loads of calories so my needs are small in size but huge in expectations.

I eat their breakfast, a few oranges and a weetabix. Then whoever is visiting at two is tasked with bringing me the loveliest, freshest, fullest flavour bursting sandwich they can find from Pret or Philpotts. Ok I will do with M and S at a push. Trouble is they all have busy lives and Stewart just doesn' t have a sandwich instinct unless its ham or cheese with none of that filthy mayo. I adore filthy mayo mixed with any other fancy filth you can throw at it. Luke is my best bet if he can get his act together.

Then for dinner I want more small explosions of flavour. Last night I ordered two perfect lamb chops, just on the turn re bloodiness and with foccacio bread. This was from Stewart and he managed to pull it off with magnificence. I am sure I would have overcooked them in his place but these were superb, drool, drool. I was grunting orgasmically all the way through.

I have read about this capsule eating they go in for in New York, Paris etc when for a ridiculous amount of rich persons money they can order perfect little meals that arrive by courier at exactly the right moment. Yes this is what we want. Why can't I pick up a menu from one of my favourite eateries, choose a bit here and a bit there and have it delivered to Bournville ward. An opening here for someone although I am not sure the Market is huge.

So my taste buds are working in anticipation of that sarnie and for tonight I have asked Stewart to rustle up more foccacio, half to mop up a small tomato salad and the other half slathered in the muit-cuit fois gras entiere that we just happen to have in the fridge, followed by raspberry jelly, low sugar of course. Bon appetit.