It hardly constitutes a sentence, but these were, yesterday, the first words that Zerlina, who is now 17 months old, has strung together. She was asking for more cheese biscuits.
Having spent more time here today, she has become very affectionate towards me and kissed me and nuzzled her head against mine. She also kissed Tilly of course. I was a bit lucky today. I’ve been going to sleep very late as, without my nighttime bath, my feet take at least an hour to warm up in bed, even on a hot water bottle. Then, once warm, it takes me a long time to feel sleepy. At least I then sleep very well. I have arranged six goose feather pillows to support my back and head so that I am very comfortable, and I do not mind sleeping on my back at all. I have another pillow which goes under the knee of my operated leg and then up between my knees so that there is no danger of them crossing or of me turning over, and I sleep for several hours like that. However, when I wake, I’m still quite tired so I’ve been staying in bed for an hour or two before getting going. The Sage brings me breakfast, which is a rather austere small slice of unbuttered toast with a scrape of jam, because I’m still not very hungry.
Anyway, I eventually rose, washed and came back to get dressed. I unwisely started by undressing, and stood there, with a window each side of the room, realising that if anyone came to front or side door, I couldn’t hide. I think I’ll keep my nightie on in future until I’m at least decent underneath. I tidied the room, made the bed, all that – and then Weeza arrived and, moments later, a client of the Sage’s. I knew he was coming but had forgotten. Fortunately, I’d done everything but brush my hair and that wasn’t awful so all was well. It’s a bit embarrassing to have a bed in the middle of the drawing room, but I brazen it out. It’s attitude that determines what you can get away with. Anyway, it’s my house. Well, it’s the Sage’s house which counts as the same thing.
When I got out of bed yesterday, I realised that something had healed as walking was much more comfortable. Up to now, the first step or two has needed care. But yesterday it was at last markedly better than getting up had been before the operation. And so it remained all day. I think it was probably some bruising going down – there are signs of a good big bruise under the dressing and I’ve got some red marks on the lower part of my thigh. All that hammering must have had an effect. As I was so much recovered, I went and made some soup for lunch, with the Sage fetching everything for me. An Aga rail is very convenient for hanging walking sticks. And it’s a good height to lean on.
I cooked again this evening, leaving the Sage to cook the vegetables and do the final dishing up. Standing there, I realised that my legs actually aren’t yet the same length. To start with, as I said in the post that some of you thought better of reading, it felt very odd to have a right leg that isn’t shorter than the left, which made it feel too long. But, two days ago, I noticed that I had adjusted to it. It feels nearly right now. Tonight, I used the rail as a barre to hold while I put the operated leg out to the side, to exercise the abductor muscle, which is the one that has wasted somewhat. But as I brought it back, it brushed on the floor and I had to flex the knee a little. I tried bearing my weight on one leg, then the other, and the right is definitely a shade longer.
I’m not concerned. It will probably settle down. I know I will have been properly measured! And if not, it’s very little and far less discrepancy than I had before, and it’s not as if there’s anything to be done about it. I think it’ll right itself.
It’s a week since the operation. I am still taking anti-coagulant tablets and will do for a month in total. I am taking paracetamol two or three times a day, but could manage without – indeed, I didn’t take my morning ones until 11.30 and haven’t taken any since; I’ll save them for the night. I don’t miss alcohol but I do miss drinking. Early evening seems a bit pointless without the prospect of a glass of wine. I wouldn’t mind a drink – this is another change over the last day or two, as before I really didn’t fancy it – but I’m choosing to go without. There are no warnings against drinking in the info with the pills, but I”ve had a whole cocktail of medicines in the last week and I think it’s better not to add alcohol to the mix.
Oh, and Weeza went and took the electric blanket off Ro’s bed (he doesn’t live here now, so isn’t using it) and has put it on my bed, so cold feet should be a thing of the past.