Sunday and it’s a lazy day. I have slept well but I wake to an aching hand. My partner brings me hot water to drink before getting up to breakfast. Breakfast is very welcome but this Sunday I have additional antibiotics and pain killers to add to the usual intake to care for my recent hand operation. I have just finished eating and dosing when I get a 48 hour follow up call from the hospital. The nurse asks if my wounds is okay, to which I reply that I have no idea as it is under layers of bandages and plaster, they are not blood soaked so I assume all is well. She asks aboand ut DVTs, and I explain I am back on my prophylactic blood thinners, seems to please her. She also seems pleased that I am able to manage the post op pain with paracetamol rather than the Codeine they sent me home with. She said it all sounded good and left me to my day.

I get fully dressed and feel I ought to do something but I am feeling “off it” and drowsy from the mixture of medication and just want to sit quietly, which is what I do but before long I start to draft the blog. I find a fragment of a poem from the hospital day.

432
My time has come and gone
last words become penultimate
and I begin to flag.
I read, I've ordered books,
my friends have received messages
but now I find few spoons
to keep my spirits up.
My stomach protests
and growls it's disapproval,
Knock knock
and suddenly its all
action.

My day goes fast and I run out of energy. I prepare for tomorrows 28 day jab. The need to keep my fighting routine going while recovering from my hand operation is just another juggle, but it means the the next couple days are going to be rough. At least I take the last of the antibiotics tonight, so its onwards, and ever forwards.