Out, but not out out...

I’m leaving hospital on Thursday.  To quote Micky Flanagan, I’m getting out, but not out out.  I’m going to a neurological physiotherapy rehabilitation clinic called Lynden Hill, which coincidentally is less than 2 miles from home.  Bonus (especially for Kevin).  I’m excited and scared in equal measure.  Excited because they have a great reputation for helping people achieve more mobility and because I’ll be given the chance to work really hard on my rehabilitation (2 x 45 min sessions every day plus additional therapy like hydro, occupational etc. – I’ll be knackered!).  Scared because although I clearly don’t want to stay in hospital, it’s become a bit of a safety net for me after nearly two months here.  The people have been fantastic and I’ve learnt to come to terms with my current condition within the safe confines of the Kennet ward.  It’ll be scary to see how that translates to a new environment.  Anyway, deep breath, onwards and upwards, things can only get better as they say.  They being D:Ream, which means it must be true, Prof. Brian Cox is too clever to have been wrong, surely?

Positives since I’ve last blogged are many…   I’ve made good, solid progress on my walking.  The distance I can cover has increased and I’ve learned to do 360° turns in both directions on my frame.  (Stop chuckling at the image of me on a Zimmer because I know you are….)  No biggie I hear you say - is that it?  Well, when you’re me right now, a 360° turn is the equivalent of beating Usain Bolt in the 100 metres.

Another positive , with apologies to non-football fans, is United winning the league (yay!!) and Man City losing the FA Cup and winning nothing (yay again!).  That cheered me up no end.  Sir Alex leaving is a massive loss, but one that I think we can survive, albeit with some pain in the transition years.  I didn’t think it would, but football still has the ability to move me despite all I’ve been and am going through.  That in itself was a relief.  It’s reassuring that my illness and my current condition haven't become all consuming.

Another positive ish is my hair.  It's behaving quite oddly, in that it's stopped falling out halfway through, so I’m now stuck with the surprised baby/Tintin look.  It's making me wonder why  I can’t do anything normally?  Even the version of lymphoma I’ve got is one that’s most commonly found in men over 65, not women in their 40's!    I'm now torn between wearing Penny or not, so have opted instead for a temporary solution, namely an 'exotic' fortune teller type headscarf.  I’m hoping that once The Great Gatsby is released, everyone will think I’m bang on trend and fashion forward.  At least that’s the plan…

Finally I must tell you about a fellow inmate here, whose name I will change out of respect for her privacy.  I’m going to call her Beryl.  Beryl is an interesting character, who used to be a strong, successful, independent, multi-lingual lady, but who now unfortunately suffers from dementia.  She marches up and down the ward constantly, ensuring everyone is on high alert as to whether she’s in a good mood or a bad one.  She’s physically now fit and well and keeps us both entertained and on our toes.  (Clearly in my case that’s a figure of speech)  Conversations with her are like talking to Eddy Izzard during one of his stand-up shows.  Genius.  The one below is one of many.  She came to see me in my room for a chat when Kevin was there.  Her nurse Natalie was with her.

A:  Hi Beryl, how are you today?

B: They’re very heavy aren’t they? (Looking at Kevin and miming something that looks like she’s holding a pair of melons/oranges or something along those lines!?!?)  And they won’t fit in here. (pointing to door frame)

K: Oh, won’t they? Why not?

B: Yes. I left them upstairs.

A: Left who upstairs?

B: The children

K: What?

B: I don’t know what’s happened to them now. The Grange.

K: Rabbits

A: (dirty look to Kevin) What’s The Grange Beryl?  Is it a place?

B: Ooo, yes. 

N: Right, let’s get on now Beryl.  Your lunch is here.

B: Ooo yes, you know they haven’t done what they’re supposed to yet?  It’s just not on. 

Later on that day I had another chat with Beryl, which finished with her telling me to keep my hair on and then laughing, so there’s plenty of life there yet J which is good, because she’s the very definition of a feisty old bird.

On that note I’ll finish up.  I need to check the doorframe for melons.