Daft Critter

 I’m writing this on my phone, whilst lying in bed. The cat is curled up behind my legs. He’s happy.

Blarney picked me up from the hospital at about 10 am. I’m really amazed at how good I have come out of this. Very limited pain, and other than being tired and knowing that my guts have been poked and prodded on the inside, I’m doing very well.

We stopped in a McDonald’s on the way home to get a coffee. I’ve already warmed it up twice in the microwave. It’s not bad coffee really.

But the cat is happy, and that’s all that matters. As soon as I arrived came out from the cupboard. He’s been sitting in the cupboard for the last three days, not because he has to because he wants to. Now I’m here, he’s showing his face. I love that he’s looking after me. 

On the not so good side of things, I’m not allowed to lift anything over 5 kg for the next six weeks. 

The cat weighs 6 kg. 

The cat will be happy about this. My gym membership has been suspended for the six weeks. I really don’t want to risk getting any hernias, and the surgeon was very very adamant about this. But I can drive once I get off the opioids, we should be in a day or so and I can walk and I don’t have to go back to work for a fortnight.

Blarney’s spare bed is very comfortable. I’m just hoping I get some sleep tonight. The hospital was really noisy, and there was too much light and too much going on.

I’m very lucky I have such great friends.

And the love of a very special, rather daft critter who thinks of me as Mum.

Today’s song.