So when we left the action our hero was....
Sorry, just had my epilepsy meds and they honestly make me feel like I’ve had four pints of cider, so happily pissed 
suddenly being epileptic has its benefits it would seem.
So where were we? ah yes, so my wife and daughter stayed with me for a bit longer and then as visiting time was drawing to a close they went home.
They were both starving as they’d been either in A&E, or in the room I was in for about three and half hours by this stage and I could hear my daughters stomach grumbling from where I was laying.
I remember having a cold drink and Clare my nurse took the thing off my finger and took the drip off too, although I still had the needles in both my wrist and arm.
I remember getting up at some point in the middle of the night as I was desperate for a pee, this was a tricky operation as I was still attached to the monitor machine with four cables.
I finally managed to get out of bed and disconnected all the monitor cables so I could get to the loo. Bearing in mind the last time I had been to a toilet things hadn’t gone well, I was rather more careful this time around.
I came out of the toilet just as Clare came crashing through the door with the defibrillator cart, convinced I’d just had a heart attack and required immediate medical intervention. Instead of finding me at deaths door, she found me stood a little shakily trying to pull the hospital gown back into place, looking very confused hobbling back towards the bed.
Yes poor Clare, she just sort of stood there catching her breath, trying not to laugh and pointing at the call bell. With this sort pained expression on her face, then I said sorry like a naughty little kid, but because I couldn’t talk properly it sounded really weird and that set her off laughing.
She helped me into bed, reattached the various things I’d pulled off when I got up and then got the bed covers back over me. She made sure I was comfortable and wheeled the crash cart away leaving me to go back to sleep.
I’m pretty convinced I saw a look of disappointment in her face, when she realised she wasn’t required to go into full life saving mode, that or just despair at what an absolute fucking idiot I had been.
When I woke again it was time for another blood pressure test and then Breakfast. The lady came in offering porridge (yuk) or toast, I hadn’t eaten since the previous lunchtime, so my stomach was doing somersaults at this stage, so toast it was. The lady came back a few minutes later with two bits of toast and a hot cuppa, I took a huge gulp of the tea straight away, big mistake.
It was at this stage my body reminded me I had chewed my tongue quite badly and I discovered its almost impossible to drink any sort of liquid, without coating yourself in said liquid, with a badly chewed tongue. Its also a really bad idea to attempt to drink hot tea when your tongue looks like the photo accompanying this blog. So I was now sat up in bed panting like a spaniel and sort of squawking like a parrot in pain at the same time.
Of course, this is when the nurse on day shift decided to come in, to check I was ok and say hi, you can imagine the look on the poor woman’s face. She introduced herself as Helen and then proceeded to help me mop up all the tea that was now dribbling down the front of me. I dread to think what she and Clare from the nightshift said to each other that evening. 
Thankfully she got me some water and a straw so I finally got a drink, I then attempted to eat my toast. I didn’t have the energy to put any butter on it, so just tried biting a dry corner off. Cue more squawking and anxious looks from Helen, as the nurses station was right outside my door. I ended up sucking one and a half bits of toast and then gave up.
An hour or so went by and the doctor came round to see how I was doing, did a few tests, reactions, etc and then said I’d be discharged in the afternoon. My wife came in about 11am to see how I was, she’d bribed Helen with a Cadburys Twirl as visiting time didn’t start until 2pm. Happy that I was ok she went off to work saying she’d return after 2pm.
The food lady came back a while later asking if I wanted lunch, she must have liked me or more than likely felt sorry for me, as she agreed to bring me four small tubs or raspberry ripple ice cream. If you every chew your tongue really badly, I cannot recommend highly enough, the healing power of raspberry ripple ice cream.
A while later my wife came back carrying a Tesco bag with some clean clothes, where would we be without Tesco bags in these situations (obviously other supermarket bags are available). Helen removed the drip feed things in my hand and arm (I have since discovered these are called cannula’s ) and then brought my discharge paperwork in, at about 4pm and said I was all ok to go home.
While I was getting out of bed I discovered I had what turned out to be a third degree burn on the outside of my right calf. We worked out when I’d been keeled over in the downstairs toilet, my leg was pushed against the radiator in there for about 15 minutes. Its the first radiator in our downstairs heating circuit (for this read really, really fucking hot) the burn was so bad when I moved my leg off the bed, you could see the muscles moving.
I thought this was fascinating and kept moving my leg about to watch my body in action, my wife on the other hand was turning green and trying very hard to keep her lunch down.
As it didn’t hurt and I just wanted to get home I didn’t bother asking Helen about it. I finally managed to get dressed and then after thanking Helen we slowly made our way out of the hospital.
I felt like a 90 year old at this stage, I was so tired and still if I’m honest, whacked off my tits on all the Diazepam that was still in my system.
We got home although I don’t really remember the journey and I curled up next to my wife on the sofa and five minutes later I was snoring my tits off. The rest of that Monday is a bit hazy to say the least.
I remember having lots of fresh orange juice with straws, I still managing to get a fair bit of it down the front of myself. Then going to bed at around 6pm, I think I woke up about 11am the following morning, still feeling spaced out but not so tired.
Before this goes into war and peace again, I know from the messages I received some of you were sending out for a snack halfway through reading the last one I’ll leave it there. In the next thrilling instalment you’ll meet Pippa the nurse who’s been looking after my leg for the last 10 weeks and other exciting developments.
