Amazing/Normal
Jesus Christ!!!! What's happening to LJ? This is what I get for being away too long.
I HAVE been using myspace. A few months ago I really despised myspace. It is still not as cool as L.J, but is where anyone can bother being, but lo and behold, nobody could bother being at myspace lol.
I think it's just as well. I love l.j because nobody in my "real" life knows I have it. So I can bitch about everyone lol. No, it's more like.. being able to publish your diary without people being shocked and angry. I have wonderful online readers that I have befriended over five years.
And I HAVE been thinking about you guys the past few months.
But I was thinking about my Grampa more. To be honest I've been thinking about myself even more than that.
My Grandfather is STILL a soldier btw. Doctors and nurses both told us they were amazed. This was an operation to remove cancer from a man with a weak heart.
God BLESS the NHS
Not only was he out of H.D.U in two days but he is expected to be discharged in full health in a week, which will then only total just over two weeks in hospital. When I gulped down a load of morphine I was in the H.D.U longer than him. Happily his experiences on morphine in that ward were contained for him, and hillarious for us. A man who could very well be a Welsh Atticus Finch turns into Benny Hill on morphine. Bless his soul. I actually mean that last bit.
He's now in a "normal" ward.
I would like to point out that he is in The Royal Gwent which after the recent murder is obviously still getting checked by journalists which is why a) before entering H.D.U we had to put on gowns and alcohol rub-- and b) when I accidently said "JESUS CHRIST NOBODY BOTHERED WITH THIS SHIT WHEN I WAS HERE" my family turned to laugh and both nurses shot me with "shut up now or die" glares.
So there really are no normal wards, but much more cameras and police outside than normal (and this is Newport so there actually is a normal amount of police and press outside our hospitals).
He called yesterday afternoon, finally divulging the secret of his bedside phone number ("don't you dare call me on this number abigail. Have you got any idea how big your phone bill will be? You don't care? Well I care, why aren't you in college eh?") at the end after they'd been the usual family pass-around of the phone..
he asked to speak to me again
He started talking in a very low voice about another man he had made friends with on the ward who that morning had been rushed back to H.D.U. My Grampa gave me all he could get about the possible condition this mystery man was suffering with and told me to find the rest.
I found it quite disturbing. I mean I would of jumped straight on the net and printed whatever medical jargon he wanted if he was only making sense. He started talking about a silver necklace, agonising pain, a rush of doctors and jewels that I was to research alone before the nurses heard him talking.
I have no doubt he's still drugged up and as he was in strong denial before the op, he IS now scared by the fact his "bad hip" was cancer in his colon. Let's not forget he watched his wife wither and die in pain to the very same cancer, just three months after my dad (his son) was buried.
What I will keep in mind is that he was not supposed to survive this operation, let alone be walking as he is now.
So I'll thank God or Tony Blair or I don't give a fuck who, I'd slave for the rest of my life for this well deserved miracle.
And don't think I don't know that finally "i don't give a fuck who" has granted this family a chance card. And we are SO grateful. More than anybody will ever know. They rescued our fighter, and in doing so, rescued us all
I HAVE been using myspace. A few months ago I really despised myspace. It is still not as cool as L.J, but is where anyone can bother being, but lo and behold, nobody could bother being at myspace lol.
I think it's just as well. I love l.j because nobody in my "real" life knows I have it. So I can bitch about everyone lol. No, it's more like.. being able to publish your diary without people being shocked and angry. I have wonderful online readers that I have befriended over five years.
And I HAVE been thinking about you guys the past few months.
But I was thinking about my Grampa more. To be honest I've been thinking about myself even more than that.
My Grandfather is STILL a soldier btw. Doctors and nurses both told us they were amazed. This was an operation to remove cancer from a man with a weak heart.
God BLESS the NHS
Not only was he out of H.D.U in two days but he is expected to be discharged in full health in a week, which will then only total just over two weeks in hospital. When I gulped down a load of morphine I was in the H.D.U longer than him. Happily his experiences on morphine in that ward were contained for him, and hillarious for us. A man who could very well be a Welsh Atticus Finch turns into Benny Hill on morphine. Bless his soul. I actually mean that last bit.
He's now in a "normal" ward.
I would like to point out that he is in The Royal Gwent which after the recent murder is obviously still getting checked by journalists which is why a) before entering H.D.U we had to put on gowns and alcohol rub-- and b) when I accidently said "JESUS CHRIST NOBODY BOTHERED WITH THIS SHIT WHEN I WAS HERE" my family turned to laugh and both nurses shot me with "shut up now or die" glares.
So there really are no normal wards, but much more cameras and police outside than normal (and this is Newport so there actually is a normal amount of police and press outside our hospitals).
He called yesterday afternoon, finally divulging the secret of his bedside phone number ("don't you dare call me on this number abigail. Have you got any idea how big your phone bill will be? You don't care? Well I care, why aren't you in college eh?") at the end after they'd been the usual family pass-around of the phone..
he asked to speak to me again
He started talking in a very low voice about another man he had made friends with on the ward who that morning had been rushed back to H.D.U. My Grampa gave me all he could get about the possible condition this mystery man was suffering with and told me to find the rest.
I found it quite disturbing. I mean I would of jumped straight on the net and printed whatever medical jargon he wanted if he was only making sense. He started talking about a silver necklace, agonising pain, a rush of doctors and jewels that I was to research alone before the nurses heard him talking.
I have no doubt he's still drugged up and as he was in strong denial before the op, he IS now scared by the fact his "bad hip" was cancer in his colon. Let's not forget he watched his wife wither and die in pain to the very same cancer, just three months after my dad (his son) was buried.
What I will keep in mind is that he was not supposed to survive this operation, let alone be walking as he is now.
So I'll thank God or Tony Blair or I don't give a fuck who, I'd slave for the rest of my life for this well deserved miracle.
And don't think I don't know that finally "i don't give a fuck who" has granted this family a chance card. And we are SO grateful. More than anybody will ever know. They rescued our fighter, and in doing so, rescued us all