Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Unfortunately, after the movie had finished, Jacqui and I became in extremely silly moods. We sat outside arguing over books of all things (I know we're so wild!!). The debate was over Jacqui's reluctance to read anything even slightly literary, and instead read the same four books over and over. I swear she's read them so many times, she can actually recite them.
Jacqui's aversion to 'all of my books' was getting under my skin. She told me in no uncertain terms that 'she would rather have a pap smear, a mamogram and a root canal whilst having hot pokers shoved in her eyes, than read one of my books'.
Desperate to prove her wrong I begged her to read just one chapter of 'Memoirs of a Geisha', to prove to her that she would like them if she just gave it a chance. I then promised her that if she read just one chapter, I would eat a whole plate of her hot food. At this, Jacqui's eyes lit up in an evil way.
Now for those of you who are unfamiliar with the differences between Jacqui and I (of which there are many), the number one difference is food. This causes a lot of problems in our otherwise serene household.
I'm a meat and veges girl, anything bland and its great. Jacqui's a hot girl. She puts tabasco sauce on everything. I swear to god I once saw her put some in a bowl of fruit salad and ice-cream that I gave her.
Jacqui decided that the comic value, of watching me eat a plate full of hot food, would far outweigh the boring duty of having to read a chapter of 'Memoirs of a Geisha'. Determined to do it Jacqui delightedly skipped into the kitchen to make me Indian rice with 1/2 a bottle of cayenne pepper and 3/4 of a bottle of tabasco sauce. My protests, "but its 12o'clock at night!", "I'm not hungry!", "I'm on a diet!", fell on deaf ears. Jacqui was determined that she was going to cook the rice, and even more determined that I was going to eat it.
As Jacqui maliciously stirred the indian rice, I comforted myself by remembering that this was all for the benefit of my friend. I could give her a whole new world filled with Geisha's, Saudi Arabian princesses and abused children called David Peltzer (a very good book called 'A child called it'). I was determined to eat the goddam rice no-matter what the cost. After just having watched "Mr Hollund's Opus" I think I was feeling like I had to touch her life - change it even. The teacher in me was brimming with ideas and if eating hot rice was what it took to make her discover the world of the Illiad, then by George I was going to do it.
I decided that the best way to tackle a bowl full of hot Indian rice was to skull it, preferably without it touching the insides of my mouth. As she presented me with the bowl of delicious smelling rice I silently chuckled thinking 'how bad can this be?'. I started shovelling in spoonfulls of rice with enormous gusto.
'Not too bad!' I thought. Two seconds after that thought, the burning started. I was gulping down the rice, whilst running around the house frantically. After I had finished 3/4 of the bowl I uncerimoniously smashed it on the floor and made a dash for the fridge.
Jaqui meanwhile, was on the floor, after having fallen off her chair because she was laughing so much. Reilly (the dog) was chasing me around barking. As Jacqui and I don't drink milk, the only dairy product I could find in our fridge was a 500g tub of low-fat yoghurt, which I'd bought for the diet I went on that never started. Unfortunately the yoghurt was two weeks past it's used by date. Nonetheless I started shovelling in the yoghurt faster than I shovelled in the rice. I didn't stop untill I'd eaten about 400g of curdled yoghurt.
As you can guess, the next thing to happen was the regurgitation. Fortunately, I had managed to stumble outside for that part. Hot food going down is bad enough, but coming back up is even worse. Especially when its mixed with off yoghurt. Jacqui was still laughing (cruel, cruel woman) and telling me to cheer up because at least I didn't ruin my diet. Thankfully I managed to clean myself up, have a shower, go to bed - all without killing her.
She has promised to read a chapter of 'Memoirs of a Geisha' when we go to the beach today. I somehow don't think my end of the deal will be as comical, with the exception of a crocodile biting her on the arse whilst she reads it (heres to hoping!).
Things on the island are going well. 4 weeks and 6 days until I return to the mainland!!! I can't wait to see everyone.
Miss you all!
Yesterday I had a mental health day (otherwise known as a sickie) and I'm feeling brilliant. Jacqui** (who also had a mental health day) and I went to our little private beach and stayed their all day drinking Pina Colada's and soaking in the sun.
The beach we go to is completely private and is absolutely amazing. On one side of the beach there are all these rocks that go out about 20 meters. If you carefully walk along them you find yourself in the middle of the ocean (slight exaggeration). I stand on them and look at all the tiny dotted islands around me and sing at the top of my lungs while practicing my hula. It is very Karmatic.
I had to be careful not to get any visible parts of my body burnt as it would not go down too well if I came to school after having a sickie with a sunburnt face. So consequently I am sitting here with third degree burns to my stomach, back and nipples wishing to god that I could have another mental health day today. Serves me right I guess. What goes around comes around.
**Not real name. Jacqui's name has been made up to protect the identity of the person I was with!!
Of course, in my day we called them diaries.... and then when the internet came along I called them 'communal emails'. But they were basically the same thing as a blog.
A diary was a book which you used to write your thoughts, ideas and daily musings. Most of the time people regarded their diary as a sacred book that no one was allowed to read. But I, having suffered the humiliation of Grandma and Kristy reading MY diary full of embarrassing scribblings when I was 12, began to write my diaries in a manner that would be semi appropriate for others to read. After finishing the book 'The Diary of Anne Frank', I began to like the idea that one day, my dusty musings could be so riveting to someone else (I have no idea how I likened my life in anyway whatsoever to Anne Franks - but the connection was made) that I further moderated my diary entries so that they would be suitable for future generations of humans to ponder over. This meant that I spent less time making up signatures for myself if I was to marry this one, that one or that one.... and more time spent in a in-depth discussion with myself (and future generations) on why I liked that person. I might only do the Bianca Erickson loves Paul Dawson percentage test once... instead of 60 times.
I really don't hold my cards close to my chest at all. In fact, it is quite normal for me to fling my cards around the room so that every Tom, Dick and Harry know my business. I don't have anything to hide. I have a vague memory of telling my 24 year old male boss at Franklins (when I was 19), that he would have to let me off registers a lot that day to go to the loo because I had a UTI. I then launched into a description of what a UTI was and how I got it in the first place. I am almost positive - beyond doubt, that he wished I had held that information a bit closer to my chest, or called in sick - I'm not sure which one.
I really like the idea that one day my kids, or maybe even my grand-kids, are going to read this blog and feel like they know me just that little bit more than they would have. Who knows.... maybe even my great-great-great-great grand-kids will read this. I want them to know me as I am today, and all the stories that have made me the person that I am today.
It is for this reason, that I decided to put some of my old diary entries and communal emails on to my blog. It is to save my grandchildren the hassle of having to work out my yahoo password so that they can sift through the thousands of emails to find the interesting communal ones.... and to save the hassle of who to leave my 29 half started diaries to in my will.
No I'm not going to put EVERYTHING on here. Just some stuff I think my..... what is the opposite of ancestors...... hang on I'm going to goole it... descendants (I really should have known that!!) would like to read.
I also thought that some of you... who are a part of these stories... might get a kick out of reading them from my perspective. I'm going to start with a few communal emails because all I have to do is copy and paste them from my yahoo account, once I work out the password, and the transcribing of the written diaries will probably never happen because we all know how good I am at sticking to something!!!
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Walking in to the room where classes are held, with a fake smile on my face, I instantly realised in horror that I hadn't read the timetable properly and I wasn't going to body pump.... but body combat!!!!! There is a huge difference. Body combat requires a lot more energy and there is more jumping around and kicking and pretending to punch things. Rather than lazily standing in one spot, holding a bar with a few tiny weights on it.... I was going to have to do stuff!!!!!
As I had already said hello to people, and was met with a chorus of 'long time no see!', 'where have you been?' etc, etc... I found myself too embarrased to leave. Just a few weeks ago I wouldn't consider body combat enough of a work out. I would usually do two classes back to back so it felt wrong to declare to everyone that this class was beyond my capabilities and leave.
I begrudgingly set myself up the back of the room and cursed myself for being so stupid to not have realised.
About 20 seconds into the first song I was into it. My flu symptoms began to disappear, my stomach cramps subsided and the sugar induced cloud of depression that had been swarming around me began to lift. I felt soooo good and sooo happy during the class that I decided to go for a little jog on the tredmill after class. My head felt clear and there were endorphins being released left, right and centre.
For the first time in my life it really hit home just how important exercise is!! I spent my highschool years handing forged notes to my poor PE teacher every lesson citing I could not participate due to 'women's problems'. I distinctly remember staring at my PE teacher thinking he was an absolute lunatic as he would explain to me that exercise is supposed to ease period pains.... as far as I was concerned, until he grew a uterus his opinion was moot. I would then launch into a lengthy description of why exercise made my period pain worse, and go into so much detail that the PE teacher would turn red and leave me alone. I now feel awful. He was right all along.
I had also been told that exercise helped improve your mood. I found this idea completely crazy as the thought of exercising MADE me depressed. I'm not big on conspiracy theories, but I did think that all the people citing all these unbelievable advantages to exercise were delusional. I had even heard some compare exercising to the big 'O'. Whilst I'm afraid to admit I'm not quite there yet, I can definitely see some similarities in feelings at the completion of a workout to the completion of.... ahem... a different type of workout.
Body combat was amazing. The hour absolutely flew by and I punched and kicked the air like nobodies business. There is something about being in a room full of sweaty women shouting 'kill, kill, kill' as you all pretend that you are warriors fighting off air people that is so therapeutic. Every time my instructor would yell 'go, go, go' I would up the intensity instinctively.... like I had no control over my body (to be quite honest there really isn't much control anyway.... I did a lot of arm flapping and flailing as opposed to punching and kicking). I really wish I could hire an instructor to follow me around my house yelling 'go, go, go' while I do the washing, floors, tidying etc.....
So there you have it. I am a convert. I now believe exercise to be essential to mental health and a cure for period pain... along with a lot of other benefits. 33 years of wrongly thinking the whole point of exercise was to morph into a stick insect was corrected in 1 enlightening hour of body combat. Thank goodness I read the time table incorrectly!!!!!
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Do you know that this was the FIRST time I have been out drinking and dancing since I had children?!?!? Yes!!! Since January 2003!!!
Our night started out fairly tamely with a nice limo ride and champers around town. Apart from discussing our husbands vasectomies (or lack thereof) it was a fairly mild ride and nothing too naughty was discussed.
Fast forward 3 vodka's, 4 Gin's and 1 cocktail and the dinner conversation at the restaurant was raunchy enough to make even the most liberated of the crowd blush!!! We all sat around the table loudly discussing very taboo topics while all of us frantically updated our facebook statuses and checked each other in. You see the technology was not around when we were younger to let everyone know how "cool" we were. So it stands to reason that given the slightest opportunity to put any remark or checkin on facebook that does not involve our kids or husbands, we take it with absolute gusto!!! I am so disappointed that FB was not around when I was younger.... it would be so much fun to read back over.....
A few of us bravely decided to go out "clubbing" after dinner. We chose Fitzy's at Loganholme for it's central location. None of us were overly excited about the idea of Fitzy's (I've heard it is where all the bogans convene) but it's location and proximity to the highway was too good to pass up. Besides, it's the company you are with more than anything right?
My good friend and neighbour, 19 year old Rachie, was my chapperone tonight and was supposed to pick me up straight from the restaurant and take me home to bed. Unfortunately for me, I succumb to peer pressure too easily and before I knew it - someone had phoned Rachie and told her to "tart up" because we were all going out dancing and she was joining us!!
So there we were. Four drunk and crazy housewives, plus one cool 19 year old, burning up the dance floor at Fitzy's. I was worried that I may have forgotten my nineties dance moves but they came back to me so easily. I was moving my feet in that figure 8 motion and bobbing my head like a chicken pecking grain like it was 1999. Even better, because I was not worried about what anyone thought of me - I really let loose! I even attempted some new dance moves involving putting my hands up in the air and kicking my feet around. I really didn't care who saw me or what they thought... it was such a great feeling!!!! Previously all clubbing experiences had been about either impressing the guy I was with, or impressing all the other people in the club. My mind would be thinking "oh I hope I'm not too sweaty...", "Oh dear I really should have gone with the other shoes", "I wonder if he is single???". Tonight all my mind was thinking about was dancing. I danced like no one was watching!!! I think I can safely say that it will be ok for me to miss going to the gym tomorrow. I danced so much the sweat was pouring off me and I had to tie my hair, which had been ever so carefully washed and straightened, into a messy, sweaty pile of curls on top of my head.
Why have I not done this sooner??? I am feeling so grateful to have such wonderful friends. We are so fortunate to have each other and spend most of our time together in fits laughing.
I am back home now. I will have to be awake in 4 hours and 4 minutes because Diddy wakes me up at 5am. I have a humongous list of things to do tomorrow and I daresay a lot of them might get overlooked. I suspect I may be a tad hungover.....
Thanks for having a birthday AM and organising such a WONDERFUL night!!! Thanks for minding my kids while Ben dropped me off Sarah!!! Thanks Ben for minding the kids so I could go out (and I apologise profusely that I forgot to change the sheets on the bed of the kidlet of ours who had an accident last night - leaving you to do it while struggling to get 4 kiddies into bed). Thanks for picking me up Rachie and daring to dance near us crazy housewives!! Last but not least thankyou Anne-Marie, Angie, Kylie, Mel, Sigrid and Tracy for reminding me how to have the type of fun again that does not involve children (or our husbands!!!!).
Uh oh. The room is starting to spin....
Friday, February 17, 2012
Melbourne is amazing!! It is so beautiful and clean. The organisational skills of the melbornians are second to none. Everything around here seems to run like clockwork and is extremely efficient. At first, I couldn't understand the benefit of a tram over a bus, but over the past 24 hours I have come to love and appreciate them immensely.
I was slightly disappointed when we arrived in melbourne. I had booked a limo to take us from the airport to the hotel and had visions of ben and I in the back of a stretch limo making out like giddy teenagers.
You can imagine my dismay when I found out our "limo" was not of the stretch variety, but a fancy chauffer driven bmw. How this differs from catching a cab I will never understand. Rather than making out in the back seat, Ben and I spent the entire time talking to our russian chauffer, who's accent was terribly difficult to understand. I was mildly impressed when he told us the car was worth $400000... but it still seemed like a glorified cab to me!!
We are staying at the Como, whose website advertises that you are likely to bump into stars in the foyer. I am pleased to report that I did bump into a "star" in the lift!!! It was a woman from Neighbours. I think her name on the show is Helen, but I can't be too sure. Not being a fan of neighbours, I wasn't overly excited. I had chosen the como, because they were the only hotel I could find in melbourne that had a free standing in room spa, and not a "shower over spa", which I find disgusting for many reasons. So the first thing I did upon entering our room, was fill up the humongous bath in anticipation of a nice, long, hot relaxing spa. Unfortunately, Ben and I differ vastly in our ideas on what constitutes a relaxing bath and my much longed for peace didn't quite turn out as peacefully as I planned. I think Ben may have misinterpreted my desire for an in room spa. But we had fun nonetheless!!!
After an amazing italian dinner, we went to bed for an early night. I drew the curtains so the room would remain pitch black, and was curious to see what time I would wake up if there were no kids, or light to wake me. Fast forward 13 hours and I briefly stirred, when a friend rang my mobile, and was horrified to see that it was 11:30!!!!
Today has been spent wandering all over melbourne. I think Ben and I must have covered at least 10 kms striding through the cbd and browsing through shops.
I really struggle to understand how come the melbornians are not a bunch of fattys. The food here is SENSATIONAL and there are chocolate shops everywhere. I saw an entire shop today dedicated to chocolate sculptures.... unbelievable! If I lived here I would never stop eating...
Ben took me to watch an AFL game tonight, which was certainly an experience. In anticipation of being bored shitless, I had bought along a new scientist magazine to read during the game. When it became too difficult to concentrate on reading, (thanks to the bloke behind us who fancied himself to be a commentator) I switched to asking ben questions, which he very patiently answered. My questions had nothing to do with the rules of the game, for which I have no interest, and instead centred around the water girls "how do they know who's thirsty?", "how do they keep track of who's water bottle belongs to whom?", the umpires "why do you think they would want to be an umpire? Everyone hates them!" and the blokes in the orange uniforms who ben called "the runners".
When I ran out of questions I decided the only thing to do was to get rip roaring drunk, like most other people at the football. I must say that it did improve my enjoyment of the game. The would-be-commentator behind me went from being frightfully irritating to hilarious in a mere 2 drinks!
Unfortunately I sobered up on the long walk & tram ride home so I am not writing this drunk. I really think I would do my best writing while intoxicated... but I guess we will have to find out another time.
Back up in the room we ordered room service, had a nice long bath and relaxed. Gee I love hotels! Last night I was able to ring the concierge to request a latex pillow and tonight I was able to ring up and get food sent up. This is the life!!!! I am having such a wonderful time! I do miss my kiddlywinks though.
Anyway, I am going to sign off now. I am drifting off to sleep as I write and we have a busy day tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Ok so the blog about funny stories never happened. I can't for the life if me remember what it was that I found funny... and certainly nothing lately has been funny!!
WE ARE STILL IN HERE!!!!!!
I think Diddy is going gung ho to be the holder of the 'longest stay in hospital after an adenoidectomy' record. According to the nurses, she is well on her way!!
Last night we had another sleep study in the respiratory unit. I convinced the Dr to let us begin the sleep study without the mask, because I was convinced she was fixed. He begrudgingly agreed to do the first hour of the study without the mask (one of the nurses said he was having a chuckle about the stupidity of that request). Needless to say Diddy only lasted 15 mins without the mask before they told me they needed to put the cpap on.
When Diddy was first put on cpap back in July 11, her pressure was set to 4, the lowest pressure possible on her machine. She was increased to 4.4 a few months after her initial diagnosis which is where she then stayed.
Last night they started the study on a pressure of 4 and it quickly went up to 5, then 6, then 7.... at pressure 8 they had to phone the dr, who wanted her suctioned before being moved up again. Suctioning involves them putting a tube up her nose and sucking all the snot out with a vacuum. Delightful!!!!
So they suctioned her and she still had to be moved up to a pressure of 9, which is where she finally settled.
Because they had adjusted the pressure by such a significant amount they wanted me to stay in for another 24 hours of monitoring.
We headed back to our room feeling very disappointed.
Most of our roommates have been lovely. I have met some really nice people. One roommate was a tad bit overbearing and it was just our luck that she was still in the room when we came back from the respiratory unit.
Her young daughter was in hospital for what looked to me to be a giant pimple on her leg. The mother told me it was an infected boil that needed an operation and the nurses seemed to think it was an insect bite. Kristy and I would call her a MBP mum (munchausen by proxy - you know, the type of mum who insists there is something wrong with a perfectly healthy child and badgers the medical staff until a doctor, in fear of having the mum ring today tonight, will admit them to hospital). She spent her entire time at hospital writhing on her bed in pain while her daughter ran rampant around the hospital. At one stage she started vomiting all over the floor in our room. I was horrified!!! When she wasnt spewing she was telling you all about how sick she was, or how the yoghurt she ate earlier just made her have the trots in the SHARED bathroom. I had patiently put up with this woman, passing her spew bags and paper towels and talking to her daughter but this morning I was at my wits end. (for those of you concerned that she had gastro, fear not... she was sent down to emergency for assessment, as they don't want contagious people in the same ward as children recovering from brain surgery, and she was sent back with a message that what was wrong with her was not something contagious - this was said with a knowing look).
I struggled all morning, trying not to judge as she would switch from sick, to hyper (she constantly dropped the c-bomb and the f-bomb) to running outside for a smoke and leaving her child. She seemed like a nice person and she seemed to really care about her child... but I just felt really drained being around her. This stress further added to my state of mind which fueled the beginnings of my pity party.
They were discharged after lunch and for a brief moment I was so excited. I started to plan a nice afternoon full of magazine reading, tv watching and playing with Diddy. About that time the party kicked off. I became so down and depressed I spent the rest of the day sitting in my now empty room, bawling. I was bawling because:
* I felt depressed that I had been so judgemental toward that mum.
* I felt depressed because Diddy was leaving in a worse state than when she entered and also felt depressed because I was depressed about Diddy's problems and not grateful that her problems aren't as bad as the other children, minus the little girl with an insect bite, in here.
* I felt depressed that I was still in hospital, and also depressed that I was depressed about being in hospital and not grateful that I had wonderful medical staff taking such good care of my daughter.
* I felt depressed about how much crap I've been eating and how little exercise I have been doing in here...and consequently how much weight I've gained... but also depressed because I really wanted a chocolate but didn't want to head out to the vending machine with big red eyes. The last thing I wanted was one of the other parents, who's children had much more challenging problems than mine, comforting me - even though I knew they would.
* I felt depressed that they want to take out Diddy's tonsils and Diddy would have to go through all this again.
I rang Ben and blubbered on the phone to him for a while before taking a nice long hot shower.
The shower seemed to fix me enough so that I was able to take a nice walk to they vending machine to get a diet coke. A couple of episodes of the Big Bang Theory later I was feeling cheerful enough to spend an hour trying to teach Diddy to kiss her Minnie Mouse teddy. I really treasured that one on one time with her because tomorrow morning I will be back home and my attention will be divided between her and the other kids.
So there you have it... an intimate run down of my pity party! Please don't feel sorry for me because I did more than enough of that myself this afternoon and I really don't deserve anyones pity (unless of course you are pitying me for my lack of style or pitying me because I have soooooooo much housework to do when I get home... that pity would probably be justified!!)
I am really looking forward to getting home tomorrow.
Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. I promise that my next entry won't be so depressing!! I really need to do some more camping reviews or recipes....
Friday, February 3, 2012
I am typing this on my phone so please forgive my terrible grammar and spelling errors.
I have been driven to write this through sheer, mind blowing boredom. I have read every magazine available at the newsagent, played 164 games of solitare, am up to level 246 on block puzzle (i kid you not - I am smashing them out), watched countless hours of rot on telly (i miss my foxtel so much!) and have 15 games of wordfued on the go.
We have been in hospital for 5 nights and I am a heartbeat away from moving myself to the ward for mental health patients.
We came in on Monday for Diddy to have her adenoids out. I had been told that we would need to spend one night in hospital, and would most likely go to intensive care afterwards. I interpreted this as 'worst case scenario' info and had convinced myself that we wouldn't even need to stay one night.
So after the operation poor little Diddy was taken to intensive care and I was told that this is routine for children on cpap.
Intensive care is a horrific environment to be in at the best of times... but the paediatric intensive care must top the list of 'worlds most depressing places'. It is awful to see such young children so sick and there are distraught parents everywhere. Parents can't actually stay in intensive care so there is a special room for all the stressed out parents to convene in with beds that you can sleep on. The beds are in rooms just slightly larger than a single bed with no windows.
Luckily we only had to stay there one night.
The next day I was convinced we were going home but apparently you cannot be discharged home from intensive care. You can only be moved from intensive care to a ward. So up we moved to ward 7 East.
From that day (Tuesday) forward I would convince myself everyday that the current day would be my last.
Every morning all my belongings would be neatly packed and I sat around twiddling my thumbs waiting for the drs to come. Everyday the drs would come and say they weren't completely happy with her O2 levels and told me we would have to stay just one more night.
Because I was sure each day would be our last here, I never really organised myself for an extended stay in hospital and have spent the entire week eating crap food while thinking to myself 'oh I'll be home soon so it doesn't matter' and never bothering to put to much effort in to sourcing a decent food supply.
It was only after 4 nights in hospital that I began to doubt that my positive thinking was having any affect on the situation whatsoever and self pity quickly set in. It was around this time that the dr told us we would be in until tuesday at the earliest.
Poor little Diddy doesn't seem to mind so much being in here. She is loving my undivided attention and loves showing off her walking skills for the nurses. She isn't in any pain and is completely unaware of her problems.
The ENT doctors wanted to take her adenoids out as they had decided that they were the thing causing the obstructive sleep apnoea. The hope was that she would not need her cpap after the operation.
Little did they know that the very things that they thought were causing the obstruction were actually the things holding her airways open when she is asleep. So now when she sleeps her airways go all floppy. There is a chance that the reason she has gotten a lot worse (her cpap pressure has had to be increased by 50%) since the operation isn't because of floppy airways, but due to swelling after the operation. Who knows?!?
So we are trapped in here till tuesday. I have been trying to get out and go for lots of walks. I even popped home a couple of times for a shower.
Even though we are in hospital and poor little Diddy is having issues - I still feel very blessed that that is all that is wrong with her. There are so many families who have children who are in a lot worse state than Diddy. There are two families across the hall from me who each have little boys recovering from brain surgery. Both boys went from being happy, healthy boys one minute to critical condition the next. Both are facing further brain surgery in the next few weeks/months and their parents are unsure of the longterm prognosis.
I have really bonded with some of the families in here and have met some really strong, inspiring and positive people.
I know I whinge a lot about being trapped here and how boring it is, but really I feel very fortunate to be at this hospital where the staff are so dedicated and capable.
Oh dear... I'm starting to sound soppy. Must mean bed time. Lots of funny tales to recount from my hospital stay so I will try to drag myself away from wordfued, solitare and block puzzle tomorrow so I can get on to it.