Day Four

It seems that everytime I write on this blog it's either the middle of the night or I've had a drink. I'm afraid neither is an excuse for what appears to be Mummy's spelling mistake below. That was just me being lazy this morning. So no, Mummy doesn't think she's writing on a 'blod' and does fully understand that it is a 'blog' - my bad. This time Mummy insisted I drank half a bottle of Champagne with Sarah before I left which Miles Ponsonby brought with him. Thank you Miles although I blame you for the coming spelling mistakes.

Today has been somewhat eventful. Early this morning Mummy had her epidural out. Then in the afternoon she had the drip out leaving her with just the rather undignified catheter. This means she's much more mobile, and without the epidural, a lot livelier. She's been complaining about the efficiency of the administration, the flavour of the smoothie I bought her, fussing about the way we do things around the room, who waters the flowers, how we arrange the chairs... Not sure I didn't prefer her when she was rather more docile and out of it. No, it's great to see her a bit sparkier even if it does mean that I'll be kept on my toes from now until recovery. Speaking of which, the surgeon (or 'the Prof' as all the staff members call him) came to see her twice today. He's very pleased with her progress and aiming to release her on Wednesday. It's very far from certain that she will be released then but things are definitely looking good. She still sleeps a lot - before and/or after any visitors, meals and get ups to the chair. The medical highlight of the day was the walk we took. Great timing meant that at 6.45pm she had a real reason to make the whole 40m look round in relative speed so as to be back in time for The Archers. She's quite the sight in her Moroccan kaftan and zimmerframe with attached catheter. Also meant she got a good nose at her neighbours: there was the Portugese woman with the husband who speaks too loudly on the phone next to Ma's door, there is the crazy old lady who whimpers from time to time, that's where all the nurses sit round for a gossip etc.

The nonmedical highlight was the pedicure. Well, at least I hope it was a highlight for Mummy. I gave her an hour long pedi which I don't think was in the original job description as personal assisting nurse. The advantage of doing it in a hospital was that I could use as many disposable, medically hygienic gloves as I liked. And boy did I. Mummy got so worried about me being unecological that she started to taunt me that she'd seen people spitting in the gloves. Quite bizarre. Anyway, my Mother now has nicer feet than I do. Well, they were nicer than my ghostly white Daddy shaped feet before the pedi anyway. We went with scarlett red nail varnish to spice up her otherwise rather invalid look. Tomorrow if we have time between visitors, sleeps and washes, we might fit in a manicure.

Sarah has stolen my hypochondriac crown by insisting the nurse do her blood pressure, pulse and oxygen levels. There was no feigning her disappointment when, when pressed, the nurse really did have to insist that they were perfectly normal with nothing to worry about. How Mummy bought up two such hypos I don't know. This was all administered by a nurse with a long Nigerian name which I'm afraid I can't remember. Needless to say, on pronounciation Mummy said: 'I think I'll just call you Ollie'.
Nurse: 'Oh well, some people call me Tini (or something)'
Mummy: 'Yes, Ollie'.
The nurse looked rather pleased with her new macho nickname. Mummy thought she was a bit too timid earlier but maybe she'll rise to the challenge now.

Weird really - I feel like the day has been jam packed but once I write it all down it doesn't really amount to much. As always, she's very grateful for all the messages.

Charlotte