The results of the blood test, taken at home by the nurse, were through very quickly, as the doctor at the hospital rang at 4 o'clock, and said that he'd just been faxed them, and clearly there was still a lot of inflammation somewhere, on which the antibiotics were not working, so would Tom accept being hospitalised again? I more or less said he'd have no choice if I had anything to do with it. He had less fever and pain but was simply very unwell, and I was getting a bit desperate.
So this was not a mad and terrified dash this time, we even had time to pack properly, only omitting toe-nail clippers, which he'd forgotten he needed until he took his socks off in the hospital. It's mostly a relief, and now he's in the right department, with a scanner scheduled for tomorrow, we hope he'll get a proper diagnosis and treatment.
I feel considerably less wobbly now than before. I ran into 85 year old Victor clambering about on ladders pruning hedges, as I was coming in, and told him something of the story. He mentioned that he'd just had something resembling a minor stroke and was due to go in for a scan too, in the meantime he'd just carry on clambering around on ladders, it takes more than a brain haemorrhage to keep a Le Faucheur from his bricolage. I chatted over it with a couple of other neighbours who were out inspecting the potato and carrot crop, and it was pointed out that we haven't really had a serious illness since we've been here, so have done quite well - not to mention saving on the complementary insurance. I rang J who invited me round to eat, which I turned down, pleading the need to walk the dog, a glass of wine and Richard Dawkins, but took a raincheck to go round there for a drink after visiting tomorrow, even though she's having her last session of chemo during the day.
Withal, I feel very bien entourée, not least because of the concern and support shown here. Let's hope we get it sorted out this time. And thanks again for the loving kindness.
Poem of the Week, by Eve Grubin
3 hours ago