Home again!

I thought I'd be home from the hospital by five-thirty . . . I was home by three-thirty.

I thought I'd come round from the general anaesthetic feeling nauseous . . . on the contrary, I was hungry for the delicious cheese sandwiches on offer.
I thought I'd arrive home feeling shaky and only fit for rest . . . instead I took Chloe out into the sun-drenched garden and sat under the trees exuding incredulous gratitude.


And what brought about this radical change in expectations?

Could it be all your much-appreciated cards and messages, your phone calls and offers of help, your loving and supportive care?

Could it also be what I can only call the indescribable kindness, efficiency and support of everyone I encountered at The Royal Marsden?


Apart from my wonderfully reassuring and helpful consultant, there was Michele, and Niamh,  and Beverly, and Toni and Lucy . . . to give just a few of the names I can remember.                                                          

The nurses even escorted me and my invaluable friend to the lift when the time came to leave, hugging me and wishing me well . . . my recovery was all thanks to them, I insisted.

So now my body has two weeks in which to recuperate.  Two weeks before the hospital needs to see me again.
Two weeks for the wound to heal, my right arm to regain strength, and for rest to be the order of the day.

Can any of you think of a word more powerful than 'gratitude', more heartfelt than 'thank you' . . .?
If so, that's exactly how I feel at the moment!