I’m having a bit of a low patch right now. There’s a new Covid variant out there which worries me and I’m in that betwixt and between state in my post surgery healing where I want to break free but I’m not quite ready. Or the last bits are not under my control.

I’ve still got the same nasogastric tube that was inserted over 4 weeks ago. The little valves where you screw in the syringes look grubby even though I’m always trying to clean them. I can feel the tube in my throat and it itches sometimes. Last night I had a sore throat for which there is no evidence it was caused by the tube – but still. My nose is tender and I long to blow it properly and wash my face without having to work around it. It looks bloody awful too because bits of an old brown plaster are still around the tube near my nose. It looks really tatty and only a mask makes me decent.

Don’t get me wrong, the NG tube is a lifesaver and so is Fortisip. But now I’ve got to the stage that I can drink Fortisip comfortably, and eat purees, I want it out. I long to get it out. However, I have to wait until I speak to the dietitian on Tuesday on the phone to see if she in her expert opinion thinks I’m ready and then find someone to take it out for me. I live too far from the hospital to go in there just for a 2 minute procedure. I assume the district nurses will do it which is why I’m going to start driving again so that I can go to their headquarters instead of staying home all day waiting for them to come. You can’t make appointments if you don’t actually go somewhere.

I’m yearning for some sort of control whereas a week ago I was very reliant on my son. I must be getting better! Thanks, son, for all you did. Good karma to you for being so giving and adaptable. Above and beyond.

It’s going to be hard to prove to the dietitian that I can eat when my 6 bottles of Fortisip fill me to the brim. I haven’t had radiation this time but something has happened to my taste buds. Things tasted okay for a week or so then my taste went haywire. I can’t taste chocolate. Tea tastes awful. Coffee is just coming back into favour and the only things that taste normal are apple and peach puree and custard. I tried meaty baby food but it is so awful I’m going to throw it out. Sorry babies.

I’m going to have to try porridge again tomorrow. Last time it was pretty dire texture wise. I might puree it. If I sound like an over-compliant patient, that’s because I trust them when they say a high calorie and protein intake is important for healing and weight loss at this stage would be detrimental. I’ll do anything to heal.

Usually I’d be going for walks to aid healing and strength but this time I’ve had an infection in the donor site in my leg and this has slowed me down. Living in an apartment is not good either. I cant walk to the letter box to stretch out or wander round the garden. BUT, I walked to the supermarket today. It’s very close but I did it. The leg looks pretty good and is painless but the wound is still being dressed so I’ll go easy. (This is the weakest I’ve ever been I think.)

What a moral dilemma the Omicron variant is if it is as bad as suspected. If the world had shared vaccines equitably it might not have arisen in Africa. At the same time I feel vulnerable to the virus and would love a booster. It’s five months since my second vac and immunity will have waned. I’d hate to think that my surgical team and I have been through all this only to get Covid.

This is a bit of a whinge. There are so many worse things in the world and I’m catastrophising. I’m going to write a list of good things next but it’s good to get the irksome things out.