I didn’t write at the weekend partly because I was not feeling great and partly because writing has become increasingly difficult.
I have learnt a new French word: to burp is roter. Contrary to what one might think, if you are recovering from a stomach ulcer, or hole (the two words seem to be used interchangeably by the doctor), burping is bad news – what every nurse and doctor asks about is air at the other end, des gazes.
My frequent burping means the acid is not going down, the digestive system below the stomach is not functioning yet. One nurse explained to me that this is like a protective mechanism after a trauma. Trouble is: how to get it working again. An important role is performed by walking. The main nurse looking after me congratulated me on today’s tramp (hampered of course by the errand drop stand). Twenty times the length of the surgical corridor and back, occasionally meeting fellow travellers waiting for “le transit” to happen. I just want to do what I can to avoid a repeat of last night, when les rots and general discomfort meant I did not sleep at all.
meanwhile the vein saga continues. The drip put in by the anaesthetist on Friday finally collapsed. Nobody wants to put a more dramatic drip into my neck: the antibiotic course ends tomorrow and, who knows, I might even move from rots to gazes.
Karin, the nurse, has managed to find one final pathetic little vein, unfortunately in the fold of my left elbow. This has GOT to last till tomorrow, she said. So I am walking around keeping my arm out straight, making certain routine movements difficult…
this is not helped by the fact that my right hand is having problems after nearly three days with the previous drip in my wrist. It hurts to move and I can hardly hold this iPad. Hopefully when the swelling goes down the hand will function again.
At least regaining the use of the right index finger has enabled me to carry on blogging.