Maggie is stranded!

I'm feeling much better today, still sleeping in the lounge on the lazyboy... The shock of the previous nights sudden nausea meant Bryan was too scared to sleep in the bedroom, and I was really glad. I've just woken from an afternoon snooze, and Bryan is having some well earned rest.

The nightmares have been pretty horrible, I've woken up sobbing after falling asleep during the day and dreaming about getting up from my nap and falling over, landing on my back as helpless as a turtle. The night before was less real, I was riding down a steep hill on a bike with someone, and couldn't stop. I woke up whimpering out loud just as I was about to crash into a person at the bottom trying to catch me. Last nights involved a very enjoyable bottle of wine which turned out to be $20,000K a bottle. It left me in a state which had me falling over in the restaraunt, into fish ponds, face down into sand... etc, but noone helping me or noticing me. This led me to believe in special dream logic, that I could do what I wanted to people and get away with it. So I shook the nearest bystander seated with his back to me, but then he got up and turned around and had a face made of noodles, and weird hands which grabbed mine as I reached out to defend myself and twisted them. No Freudian dream analysis required with these dreams, although clearly bizzare, they reflect the very real fear I have of falling over and damaging my new metalware.

While I'm able to do a lot for myself like walk around, shower, dress, stand up, and roll over in bed (but can't stay on my side for more than a minute or two), the lazy-boy where I now reside 23hrs and 40mins of the day has me stranded! I can't pull the lever myself, and so someone has to be around all the time to help me out of the chair through moving the lever and lifting the head up for me. This whale-like stranding also means that I get all my food prepared and brought to me by the head chef, cleaner, washer-upper, decorator, and Matron, Bryan. I haven't resorted to asking for one of Nelson's (my 18 month old nephew) Pelican bibs that catch all the things that have missed his mouth, (delights to rummage for after dinner.. the mix of peas, macaroni, and desert seem not to bother him one bit!). Instead I have a massive Dave Clark (folks at uni will know) style tea-towel bib. Then I can rescue the big chunks of green jelly that have wobbled their way off my spoon, or anything else. The next biggest challenge to eating whilst semi-recumbent surely must be eating upside-down, followed by eating in space. If I'm ever lucky enough to do the latter, I'll be sure to pack some green jelly for hours of entertainment.

My surgeon's bill arrived today, he told me whilst in hospital that he has reduced his fees considerably to be about half or more of what they would be, given the length of the surgery. I am hugely grateful for this, as although Southern Cross has come to the party, Bryan tells me that they are only coming to the quoted $50K or less. So the $8K surgeons fee is generous, but I can see why one of his 6 cars is an Aston Martin (maybe he can take me for a drive?). The costs of the titanium rods and screws was $23k. My Anaesthatist (Graham Morton) has been nothing short of excellent, and he also reduced his fees considerably to cover costs plus a little more. This is a huge favour from a former colleauge from my ICU nursing days.

I had the dubious honour of being nursed by a lot of my former colleauges, and those nurses which hadn't worked with me had been warned. The inevitable warning at handover after rattling off my list of woes, is to say 'oh, and she's a nurse' which means 'watch out, she's a nurse, she'll either be demanding or ok, but either way do it by the book'. My night in ICU I can remember vaugely, I had Hesbie who is an excellend South African nurse, who has a love of washing. After being woken every four hours (I know this, because that's the 'protocol' for how often to turn patients, and Hesbie is by the book) for a roll and a wash, and seemed to be frequent changes of sheets, I was sure that I must be looking luminous. I was surprisingly comfortable being turned, and used a lot of my morphine pump to help out. A few days later I had a chuckle to myself, recalling a nurses conversation with me a few years prior, saying 'I'd hate to be one of Hesbie's patients, she wakes them and washes them all night, lights on, she should just let them sleep'. At the time I totally agreed, but now having been on the other end of it, I can say that it was a nice feeling not to be left lying in a broken heap all night.

I can say, I appreciated the nurses so much, but never once did I think, 'oh how I miss it!'

After writing all this I'm roasting, and ready to get up and try a little walk in some fresh air. The thick surgical compression stockings keep me super heated! I think Bryan is still snoozing down in the bedroom, poor thing. I'm stranded without him, so will wake him now using the new walkie-talkie that Garry loaned us. It has a 6km range, and means I can get him out of calling distance. Yesterday it had the very important use of relaying fruju flavours from the dairy to me in my lazy boy. Aha! He's up! Time for walkies!