For the rest of Wednesday 6th July I stayed to close to home in the apartment, encouraged principally by the fasct that I couldn't feel my feet and I felt a complusive urdge to hold onto walls and other solid objects when moving around. I also had very little appetite, so just confined myself to a cup or two more of the mushroon soup - very enconomical!
The guest house owner Karien was wonderful in keepting the gel-packs coming in between running her soap shop business. She loaned me hte '3.10 to Yuma' a fairly violent western with Russel Crowe starring which helped to fill in the evening. I had a really weird night. I just could not get to sleep so I took one of the sleeping pills included in the pack by Dr Bart and was, I think, hallucimating a bit. The fact that I made a pot of coffee about 2 am is pretty strange behaviour (at least for me).
This morning I was feeling much better. I could feel my right foot although my left foot was still just the thing keeping my left leg off the floor. I decided that sitting arounds wasn't going to make things any better so I got myself cleaned up as far as possible and plodded off into town at 9 over the cobbled streets of Ghent. (Mental note for those deciding where to perform surgery in future - inverse relationship with number of cobbled streets...) Well, I didn't fall over but I did frighten the local inhabitant's a bit with my appearance, especially the cashier in the supermarket. Still, a visit to the supermarket (tights and mouthwash) and chemist (powders for head cold) met my provisions needs and an ice cream at the cafe in the square worked wonders for my sore throat. I was back in the apartment at 10, feeling pleased with myself.
I lunched on half a banana, sliced thinly and inserted between swolen lips and tongue - easiest with a mirror, given that everything iis still fairly numb.
And then at 2 pm I set off on the great adventure of the day, cheered off by Karien. This was a two hour plod around the outer reaches of the town intended (1) to stop me going stir-crazy (3.10 to Yuma again...) and (2) to make sure that I can manage to route to my check up with Dr Bart at the Cosmetic surgery clinic here in Ghent tomorrow. Well, object achieved on both counts, although the little lad who asked his mum'what had happenned to the poor lady?' was unlikely to be getting a full explanation, I thought.
So I got back with a restored appetite and a glow of self confidence. My right foot is now pretty much in full commission and the left is now going through the 'pins and needles' stage which presages feeling returning, so I should have good news for Dr Bart. Tea consisted of a whole tin of minestrone soup and might yet be accompanied by some fruit pastiles to keep this tickly throat quiet.
More news after I see Dr Bart tomorrow.
Bye for now
Moira
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