Over the weekend I couldn't help but question whether all of this has been worth it, and this has been pretty difficult to deal with emotionally. I have yet to get to the stage where I'm reaping the benefits, but that time will come, I just need to have patience. Yesterday and today have brought great strides forward, with my pain levels minimal and my appetite coming back. I feel like, little-by-little, I'm regaining some physical strength. I'm off the strong pain killers, and my staples should be removed from my abdominal wound tomorrow. I was shocked, though, when I asked to weigh myself and came in at a measly 72kg (I was 81kg on admission to hospital). For the imperial minded this means I have lost about 1st 6lbs in 13 days. About 4lbs of this was physically removed during the surgery.
But there's light at the end of the tunnel now. Even murmurings from most doctors and senior nurses that I'll probably be home soon. I need to speak to my consultant who has not yet been round today. I feel like I'm nearly ready to be recovering at home, so here's hoping because the hospital food, for want of a sophisticated description, is shit!
Oh, if you're wondering why there is a picture of Alf, the loveable 80s sitcom character I remember from my early childhood, it's because that's the name my wife and I came up with for my Stoma. And they kind of look alike in a weird sort of a way.
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