This is the transition lounge. It's where you wait to go home. Or more correctly, its where you wait for your paperwork so you can go home. Which can take a while, or so I'm told.
I didn't bother blogging breakfast because it was exactly the same as yesterday. Including the fruit salad that tastes all of pineapple, even though it contained no pineapple at all.
Hopefully I will be discharged today, where I may keep up this blog from the lovely Matheson household, or I may not.
Pain and stiffness not nearly as bad as I thought it would all be. This is a definite positive. Very dizzy, definite negative.
It turns out Edward's name is actually Adrian. I know this because he added me on Facebook. Which is some seriously impressive stalking when you consider I got his name wrong.
And here's me on day 3, with a guest appearance by my drains, because everyone wants to start their day with blood filled grenades.
Check it, my dinner was mostly edible! I didn't actually eat much because I didn't feel that flash but the kumara was good. Sadly it was missing ice cream so no dessert.
...Until Kirsty showed up with a chocolate cigar to celebrate my surgery. Sadly im not feeling all that well, and im sweating buckets, so eating the cigar shall have to wait.
What even is this? Answers on a postcard.
No, I didn't eat any of it.
The lady next door is having a tantrum. No idea why.
Someone is playing snoopys Christmas. And I still can't set fire to them with my mind. Clearly this upgrade didn't work.
It showed up at 830, being rice bubbles, two bits of bread (no attempt at toast) Fruit salad which looked to have some different fruit in it but tasted entirely of pineapple, and a juice box.
Pain is amping up slowly, very very tired.
Surgical team say I'll get out tomorrow, as expected.
So tired. Hospital is loud and bright. They need to be feeding me asap or otherwise im going to muffin break.
Right side of my chest hurts really bad into the arm, left side is fine.
I don't have any diet coke and that is bad.
