And so is writing about it. And likely reading about it. Fortunately these post hospital stay posts are brief and to the point. One week ago I could barely type. My hands were still partially paralysed and I was walking with a cane. I have made rapid progress.
Two Sundays ago I was at my absolute worse. I could not walk unassisted and had double vision. I somehow struggled through a sponge bath that morning, dressing myself and making my bed. Then, after some reflection, I called an ambulance. I needed to be transported in wheelchairs and stretchers. I spent twelve hours in hospital emergency drifting in and out of consciousness.
I feared with my numb fingers that I would never do art again. The day after I was admitted in hospital I began a new drawing. I still could not stand unassisted. The following day they gave me a walker, freeing me to walk throughout the hospital. The following day I was dressing myself and wearing street clothes, and longing for clean underwear. My vision was also improving and the nurses noticed that strength was returning to my hands and feet.
Thursday, one week ago today, I was given a cane. My vision was normal again. Friday morning I walked two and a half miles in the West End, my first foray away from the hospital grounds. I was discharged that day, visited with friends and colleagues in a coffee shop, then went home and made a tasty bean and pasta dish from scratch.
Each day since I try to move a bit further but it has to be slow and gradual. I do not want to relapse. I took Monday and Tuesday off from work, then started again yesterday.
Today is the first day that I have walked more than five miles without having to sleep once arriving home. I am also successfully battling a viciously itchy allergic rash with antihistamines and this might also have been tiring me.
I still don't feel one hundred percent. Perhaps ninety-two, up from ninety yesterday.
This is a dull, monotonous and bland as sliced white bread kind of process.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
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