Contact resumed

As we were finishing breakfast this morning, at ten to nine, I had a phone call this morning from my surgeon's secretary, perhaps in response to the letter from my GP? Mrs Cornish wants to see me soon, for another investigation under anaesthetic, on the basis of the MRI scan result. This has turned up in their in-tray today, she said. I told her I already knew from my GP what the report said, and was very concerned about the fact that it reflects how I was nearly seven weeks ago, and not how I am now, for better or for worse. So, would it be possible to meet and discuss this before an investigation takes place, as this could affect the planned course of action. The secretary agreed to enquire about this with Mrs Cornish, and I agreed to write an account for her of how the wound condition has changed for the better in recent weeks.

Before doing anything else, I sat down and wrote a letter to post on my way home after church, as I was due at St Catherine's for the midweek Eucharist at eleven. It took me a good hour to write and print the letter, but I got to church in good time to celebrate with seven others, and was able to pop a copy into the GP surgery on my way there. I then walked to the Post Office to get a first class stamp and post the letter. No point in wasting any more time in getting to the next stage of treatment.

Clare was out again this morning getting herself some new glasses, so I cooked lunch for us, two big fillets of salmon some fresh broad beans and kohlrabi, which I haven't cooked before, only eaten raw, grated in a salad, so I steamed it, luckily, just the right amount to retain its firm texture. Interesting, what we get in our organic veg bag sometimes.

I was unsurprisingly sleepy after lunch, having had to get up and remove a fresh dressing last night, an hour after falling asleep. I had forgotten to shower with warm water and soap before bed. This is now more necessary than it was before, as the stuff coming out of the wound, although far less, seems to be more acidic and distresses skin in the most sensitive of areas, that it wakes me up and makes it impossible to sleep. Yet, the skin isn't inflamed or damaged, and calms down soon after a good wash, It's strange how such small details take hold of your life when you're striving to function as normally you can within the limits the ailment sets.

After a spell of deep sleep slumped in a lounge chair, and a half hour of lighter sleep in bed, I cooked a chicken and mushroom soup, and then went for my daily walk - three times around the perimeter of Thompson's Park, in the company of a goodly number of dog walkers and their charges, enjoying the sun. I had a call from Pidgeon's, about officiating at a funeral on Owain's birthday. This will take me to Coychurch Crem for the first time if my memory serves me right, but the timing means I should be back mid-afternoon. In time for a birthday tea. 

A couple of days ago, while re-purposing an old SD card, I found a few video clips I didn't know I had, taken accidentally while trying to take a photo and in the heat of the moment, never deleted. One of them was that moment at Owain's 40th birthday last year, when he'd received his cake from Rhiannon and was about to blow out the candles. I sent it to him,  but he wasn't able to view it on his phone. I'd seen it on Linux and Windows 10 computers, so he'll be able to, whenever he gets around to it.  

Once more, I spent the evening in bed with the sounds of Cardiff Singer of the World, in the background, thinking and writing.