Thursday 19th September

My GP telephones me just before I am about to put dinner on the table!

He wants to know how I am, how I am coping, whether the pain and swelling are getting me down, and whether I am sleeping properly. He is genuinely concerned, and is sorry for all I am going through.

We discuss my return to work, and he is adamant that I must wait until at least I’ve had my appointment with the plastic surgeon in Exeter, on 4th October. In fact he says he will write a sick note for eight weeks, taking me into November. However, if I’m up to it, I can return to work sooner. He also agrees to prescribe me some sleeping pills.

Maybe at last I can sleep through the night without waking up only to stare at the dark ceiling, thinking dark thoughts about this dark disease.

Monday 9th September

I left school a bit earlier than I should, (I didn’t have any classes in the afternoon), drove home, quick wash and brush up, and then we’re on the way to Exeter, staying in a hotel overnight, ready for surgery tomorrow.

It’s almost four months since my Wide Local Excision, and tomorrow it’s down to nuclear medicine for radioactive dye injections, followed by Sentinel Lymph Node Biopsy of the left groin.

I go to bed thinking, wondering, scared of the unknown.

Monday 1st July

Down to the surgery this morning to see the practice nurse and yes, the stitches on my back were more than ready to be removed. One long, tidy running stitch with nine loops. It was mighty sore when the last few had to be tugged and pulled out. A little bit of bleeding necessitated another dressing ~ I think my skin had started growing through the thread, and it was becoming too tight, and a bit inflamed.

It certainly felt very different, sitting in the car, being driven home. The tight, bruised, stretched sensation I had, has now gone. It’s still a bit sore, but improvement is surely there.

A bit wary that when I do sit down, or lie on it at night, I have this awful thought that the scar will split open and my insides fall out! Stupid, irrational, I know; but I can’t help it.

BUT, at least I know all of the scar and surrounding tissue that had been cut away is clear of any disease.

Reasons to be cheerful 🙂

My foot seems to be healing well, but there is a raw patch between my toes, where the skin graft didn’t take. I can now though, wear a loose pair of FitFlops, which is way better than the foam and Velcro bootie. However, my foot still is really swollen; the nurse says this is normal, and may take another two or three months to return to normal. Ha! Oh joy! The nurse also had the doctor sign me off for the rest of the term. No school until September. Wow!

Oh, by the way, can anyone tell me where May and June went?

Apart from two lots of major surgery on my foot, skin graft, two slices out of my back, infections, anaesthetics, antibiotics, stitches, crutches, painkillers, compression stocking, Velcro bootee, plaster cast, appointments, CT scan, twice-weekly dressings, nurses, doctors, consultants, plastic surgeons, hospitals. And in between I have lain in bed, or downstairs in the lounge, on the sofa, with my leg elevated.

Recovery and recouperation are slow, I’m an impatient patient, but I’m getting there.

Sunday 23rd June

Most Sundays we visit our local supermarket to do the weekly shop.

Having paid and about to move out, a lovely lady who works on the tills made a point of stopping me to wish me well. She said that everyday she sees me I’m looking better and better.

Such kind words, spoken with sincerity, totally unexpected, really have the power to uplift the soul.

Wednesday 19th June

Today I go for a walk, yay!

Having spent the last seven weeks at home, or visiting different hospitals and surgeries, I felt it was about blooming time I had some gentle exercise. My left foot was still rather swollen, so going out for a walk necessitates crutches and a speed akin to a tortoise carrying the weekly shopping.

Despite the slow plodding, it was so refreshing to be outdoors. The sky was a beautiful blue, the colourful boats bobbing on the sea in the harbour were straining at their anchor ropes, and the many, many people walking along the front were engaged in all sorts of activities: eating ice-creams, pushing prams, holding hands, conversing, taking photographs.

I had really missed the normality of everyday life and its simple pleasures.