|Last look at the factory for the sick, shrouded in freezing fog.|
Back home at last, after three and a half weeks in the mad house. The utter peace of it.
The first nights sleep was very fitful, still institutionalized from the hospital. Tiny snatches interspersed with visions & sounds of the institution: the constant glare of neon lights, the ever present doo-dee-doo bleeps of someones drip needing attention, my arm encased in Velcro & pumped tight to read blood pressure, the single high pitched note of the latest type of thermometer screaming in my ear; and of course the ever present sound of someone close by, coughing their heart out.
Waking at dawn in my own bed; how amazing. Alive for another day - a survivor. Listening to the world outside stirring: 6.40 am and the first cars go gently by, taking their owners to work; and just beyond the window somewhere, the beautiful quiet morning serenade of a Robin.
|My friend is back|
A while later I am discovered by my affectionate old 'Extrapuss' (back from her usual dawn adventures). She settles down on the bed between my knees, purring loudly & staring at me with half closed ecstatic eyes. Then the heavenly picture is complete. Flu racked & exhausted, Christine arrives with a morning cup of tea.
Now there's just this shadow of my former self to restore - down from 10 st to 8.5st. Looks like a lot of bananas, pasta, and Christmas cake ahead and some very slow shuffly walks by the two of us.