Sunday 3 July 2011

Managing.

 I came home on Friday - train from Richmond to Euston, on to Coventry, then Nuneaton, then to George Eliot Hospital, by cab, to meet G.
All was great until Coventry, where a group of young men, with little girl, were drinking & smoking spliffs, until ejected by a burly security man.The ejection didn't happen until after they had approached me, in the "Ladies Waiting Room", for painkillers.
This was relaxed compared with the train journey to Nuneaton; a guy with turrets, with carer,two rows behind, two travellers with a rottweiler, two rows in front.
One shouted, the other barked for the entire 20 minutes.

G was awaiting physio when I arrived, they taught/ tried to teach him how to stand up & sit down from a chair, with walking sticks, without putting weight on his right leg. He knew a better way.
He had had a piece of tissue the size of the palm of a hand, removed from around where the mole had been removed, on his R leg, skin to graft into it, from his L thigh & a second mole from his L calf.
His R leg is plastered to prevent him flexing his foot.
He must keep his R leg raised & not put any weight on it for 10/11 days, when he goes back to see the surgeon.
He has spent today on the bed,as it's  easier to conform to all of the rules & prevents pain.
I think that the next ten days may drag a bit.

I've been to Church & run up & down stairs a bit, between tennis finals on TV.
The men's final was brilliant, the mixed was rather tame.
All over for another year.
I'm playing tomorrow, to make up for it.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

A shouting dog! Quite novel.
Does someone with turrets look castellated?

Anonymous said...

Perhaps just early gothic?

Anonymous said...

I did wonder that, so googled it first.
Lesson: don't sit near a castelated commmuter.
g

William said...

Beaten to the castle comments. Damn it.