My new giant plaid shirt nightie. Also being able to stand unaided again! I’m still dosed up to the eyeballs with painkillers and I don’t know how much I should actually be hurting but right now I’m a teensy bit sore and extremely stiff and tire easily but that’s about that. Even the surgical team are a bit on the “woah, you bounced back from that!” side. The way things are going, I could be out of here by Friday (I have antibiotics to finish and I’m still only eating tiny birdlike amounts) - this means I might even make it to one of my closest friend’s 20th birthday party :)
Things that are not cool.
This thing, my central line. Yup, it’s sewn onto my neck. At one point a nurse accidentally popped one of the stitches so it’s still kinda bloody. Takes loads of sticky dressings to keep it from dangling freely from my neck, which are good for about 3 hours at which point it starts to hang off again. Having plasters ripped off your neck/out of your hair a couple times a day is just as fun as it sounds. I don’t even know what the other cut on my neck is, might be from the first attempt at putting one of this things in while I was knocked out. Wouldn’t be surprised as my veins are terrible (earlier this week two Ward Sisters tried to put an extra line in me and failed), which I guess is the advantage of this thing as they can get blood out of it every day without vein finding issues. Still, gonna be glad to have it out tomorrow morning.
In other news, I learnt how to inject myself in the leg (cos I sure has hell ain’t injecting in my stomach now, and I have another lovely 40 day course of injections to do. Again.).
Also my mum came and brought me this lovely letter from an elderly client of my opa’s handwriting analysis business. She heard about my mohawk fundraising event a couple of months ago, and has previously sent me a similarly lovely letter with a donation to Cancer Research and to express her support. This was a second letter telling me that her thoughts are still with me and enclosing two more donations, one dated June and one August. She also enclosed some postcards from Exmoor “to take me to a nicer place”. I was so touched, and I got a London postcard and wrote back to her right away thanking her and telling her all about my last 6 months and how I’m doing really well now. Things like this make the world a better place.