I feel I should apologise for being out of touch for a while. Well, actually, I am not sorry, but you know how we Brits apologise for everything, even things we haven't done.
I spent the last four days in hospital, returning home yesterday afternoon. I had developed severe leg pain and swelling, and was last Wednesday sent by my GP to the hospital in Aberystwyth, some 30 miles away. They gave me an ultrasound and found a whopper of a blood clot extending from my right pelvis down to my calf. I was administered strong anticoagulants and sent home.
"Don't fall over," was my parting instruction.
That evening, an electrical lead decided it would be fun to see what would happen if I did fall. I tripped, landed on my right leg with a wallop and within a minute was struggling to breathe. No ambulances being available for hours, Jacqui raced me back to the hospital, where I was admitted to A&E.
It transpired that part of the clot had broken away and travelled to my lungs. The specialist described it as being a sub-massive mass. Thankfully no brain or heart involvement. So, I was put on a ward for two and given a strong anticoagulant via injection to my abdomen.
One good thing about my stay was the view from the ward. It looked directly over an Iron Age fort, Pen Dinas, which I used to walk to frequently when I was a student. It brought back pleasant memories. Digging into Iron Age history at Aberystwyth’s Pen Dinas hillfort | cambrian-news.co.uk It also reminded me of a career I would have loved to have as an archaeologist.
Now I am home and resting, and thankful for all the little things in life. Teary episodes are frequent.
On returning home I found I had actually finished the attached painting, which was propped on the piano just waiting to be scanned. I hope you like it. I see I forgot to sign it before scanning. Did I seriously say "No brain involvement"?
