Currently…

OK, let me start by saying this week hasn’t exactly gone to plan… The plan was, of course, that I would be busy working, starting a bunch of new courses and getting to know my new students.

Instead, I’m at home, on sick leave, recuperating from appendectomy.

Oh well, that’s life.

Anyway, long story short: I was taken to hospital on Sunday morning, had my appendix removed a few hours later, spent the night at the hospital and was discharged on Monday afternoon.

What else should I say? Oh yes… I would like to thank the Nordic welfare state for our very efficient universal health care.

Wait, isn’t that why we pay taxes? Well, I’ve always been a happy taxpayer (thank you Nordic welfare state for my free university education), and I sort of tend to take all of this for granted. Shame on me.

Anyway, The meds I was given in hospital were good enough to make me think maybe there’s nothing wrong with me after all, and perhaps I should just save everybody’s time and get the hell out of there (OK, my fear of anything related to doctors may have had something to do with it). But before I had a chance to say anything, they told me I would be having some sort of a scan. I didn’t ask for details. Sometimes less information is a blessing… And then I was told that it was my appendix acting out, and I would be having an operation as soon as possible. I took that to mean ‘whether I liked it or not‘ and resigned to my fate. Or maybe the meds were wearing off by then…

I didn’t really have time to get all freaked out, which was probably a good thing. And everybody was so nice! Except the people in the recovery room. Well, they were nice, too, but they wanted me to wake up. And I was having such an interesting dream (which I can’t remember), and I really, really just wanted to sleep. Which I did, once I was back in the ward. Even though there were people coming and going and asking for this and that. Usually my blood or something to that effect. I swear, I felt as if I was feeding a bunch of vampires…

But they were all very nice and asked if I needed any help. Seriously? Me, needing help??? As if I would ever admit it, even if that might be the case?!? OK, so I kept slamming the bathroom door on that pole thingy with the meds hanging from it, big deal, I haven’t had much practice, that’s all.

But the nicest person of all was the sweet young man who asked me what I wanted for breakfast. I asked what he had, and he started listing things. So, I just asked him to bring me everything. And he did. Now, that is nice. And I ate it all, too. It was Monday morning, and I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since Saturday evening.

And now I’m back home, on sick leave. No work for a week, no gym for a month, no heavy-lifting of any kind. I think I will be going out of my mind by Friday…

OK, this is the situation: I’m not in pain, and the amount of painkillers I was prescribed would make any drug lord envious. But I’ll take my meds, for a few days, and only half of the prescribed dose.

And Professor M is taking very good care of me, of course. He postponed his return to the U.K. (where he works) to be with me, and he’s working from home. And all my friends have offered to come and do the shopping etc. That’s nice.

But I don’t really think we’re going to run out of food any time soon: the way Professor M keeps filling the fridge you’d think we’re some sort of crazy doomsday preppers…

My problem is that I can’t stand being fussed over. Yes, I know, I’m a very bad patient. I’ve always been like that: if I’m really ill, I just want to be left alone to wallow in my misery. And when I’m recovering, I start thinking of all sorts of projects. You know, cleaning the kitchen cupboards, mopping the floors, sorting my wardrobe. The odd thing is that these activities never seem to interest me that much when I’m healthy…

Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything I’m not supposed to do.

Anyway, if I start writing odd, rambling posts towards the end of the week, there’s no need to worry. It’s just a bad case of cabin fever setting in…

Tiina

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