Two weeks on from the operation which Dipstick had called a minor procedure. Nothing like the others. Just an hour in theatre. A night in hospital and take it easy for a few days. ….drink gin and tonic

Well my ever awesome friend DG, warned me to ignore all that. As it was, surgery took more than two hours. She also advised 6 weeks of no lifting anything more than a kettle full weight, avoiding too much walking and certainly no conference speaking. I promised her I would and indeed subsequently have thanked her effusively . Cancelled everything planned: conferences, parties, dog walking….etc. Have only just got it together to sit in anything nearing comfort. Horizontal seems to have be safer . I have at last stopped the painkillers …well the morphine ones. Which I hate taking but had to admit defeat in order to sleep…

When I asked if this was normal…an email did get returned by Dip. Full of detail ( not)! His reply simply said: ‘possibly’

This reminds me of the first man in the boat. G.O.D. God Of all Doctors. Who pronounced after surgery that he would pop in a perc before I went home. I had no idea that meant and anticipated getting home by teatime. Alas it meant, no tea, another operating theatre, another procedure to put a catheter in my back to drain my kidney. No imminent return home, since I then had to undergo massive surgery to sort out the obstructed ureter causing all the issues. That was 2011 and I thought would be the end of the 2009 disaster. How very naive was I?

There was also an infection Dip casually referred to in another email. Picked up from a culture sent from theatre. How the hell a bug had survived the toxic antibiotics delivered by iv I do not know. So imagine my panic whilst we awaited further results. Hah. It was sensitive to home stuff so I could stay put. Phew.

However, a new infection seems to have hit…just waiting for those results as long as the trusty courier gets them to the lab.

In other news, BFG returned home for the weekend, to take over the kitchen and his lovely JB a perfect ‘cleaner-upper’ behind him. My scullery maid duties having been appropriated by JB , I was ordered to lie down read and chat. So I did! I have also been looked after by yellow cardies, many more friends and family. House is full of flowers – I do feel a fraud. It was only meant to be a small operation. Bedside is piled with all sorts of magazines varying from satirical, to designery !- So my morphine filled dreams have involved junior doctors’ enemy candidate Hunt (carefully pronounced) making me an infinity pool, which teachers’ enemy Gove fills with gin and then Villanelle kills them both wearing her pink tutu… all in some Scottish shabby chic ( ie freezing) castle.

Now it is raining again and so I think another session of Killing Eve beckons. As you probably know this a spy thriller. MI5 agent, Eve, determined to capture psychopathic assassin, Villanelle. As I explained to my Dad it is meant to be funny. A typical scene in series 1. Villanelle wore a pink frilly ball gown to her psychiatrist appointment at which she laughed at all the inappropriate points. She is assessed as fine. I just wonder if I did that to a Dip appointment would he also certify me as ‘fine’ and good to go gin and all?

Eve: If you sleep with more than 2 pillows you’re a psychopath. Villanelle: A comfortable psychopath

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