I have just had my first meal for eight days and despite its blandness I devoured it with enthusiasm: like yesterday, a soup with vermicelli, a pot of apple purée and a yoghurt. But this time I also had a slice of ham (which I normally don’t touch, mashed potato and a tiny bread bun.
On Sunday I was liberated from the drip – or rather, it packed up and there were no more veins to use without anaesthetist. This means I can now walk outside. I cross the old bridge, which I love, and dawdle along the row of old filatures (silk factories) beside the river. I don’t go far as it is hot – over 35 – and I am feeling the effects of a week effectively without food.
I still cannot have a shower, as I have now been put into a corset to keep the hernia in place and apparently have to wear this non-stop until the operation!
The famous transit is not making much progress. Now Dr Terki, who replaces my surgeon, Dr Glaise, for her two weeks holiday, said that I should go home tomorrow, returning here if there is another crise while 8 wait fir Dr Glaise.
I am delighted but apprehensive. Dr Terki seems nice enough , but I don’t have the same confidence in him as I do in Dr Glaise. And whatever happens I really don’t want to spend another eight hours in Urgences. I’m well known here now as the patient with problematic veins and le transit qui ne marche pas! Several nurses remember these problems from my last stay, in June.
Now my friends Hans and Margaret (as always bricks – looking after Poppy, shopping, delivering clothes…) are getting me some basic food so I can resume my strict diet at home.