I Start To Pick Up The Threads Again

I Start To Pick Up The Threads Again

The most official thing that affected me since having the operation, was not being able to drive. Apart from the DVLA forbidding people to drive for six weeks after such an operation, I certainly did not feel confident to get behind the wheel until I was certain my breast bone had healed completely - I didn't want any emergency stop situation to have an impact on my sternum! - but two months later, I felt pretty secure in my progress. 

And there was my Nissan Note sitting on the drive way, just waiting for me to take her for a spin, so when Wendy said, "Come on! Let's go round the block!" I was ready to go.

It felt a bit strange, having a) not driven for a while, and b) not been out of the house much, anyway! but as I slid into the driver's seat, it was great to feel the steering wheel under my hands; I adjusted the mirrors, checked everything was fine, inserted the key and switched on the ignition. She started at once and sat there, gently purring, until I put her into gear and nosed out into the road. 

I was so pleased to feel everything was just progressing naturally, and exactly as it had always been. I'm a careful driver anyway,  and make sure my attention is constantly focussed on the road - Wendy, who has professional driver status, says she likes travelling as a passenger with me behind the wheel, so you can't get a much better compliment than that. 

Since then, I've had a longer trip out to Curry's, the electrical showroom, to have a look at double ovens. My current top oven, which also houses the grill, packed up three weeks ago, and it is so old, it's not worth even trying to repair it: It needs mending with a new one. 

One the way home, I followed this up by a very safe, socially-distanced and out-of-doors visit to one of our lovely relatives; it was just great to feel well and strong and full of beans, to be able to do so much in one day, without feeling weary or as though I had overdone things!

Whilst I was still in the hospital recovering from the operation, one of the physiotherapists gave me a little device called an incentive spirometer; this has a tube attached that I had to use as I breathed in as deeply as I possibly could, to see how much air I could get into my lungs. It took me a couple of goes to get the hang of it (I had also tried breathing out into the tube, and wondered why it wasn't working?!) but as that was only 48 hours after the op, and I could hardly expand my chest at all (this is very hard to do, when you have a sternum fastened together by wires, and that has only just started to heal!) I got up to just 500 ml. This is the first number listed at the bottom of the tube, and clearly not very much at all. 

The physiotherapist told me not to worry - things would improve with time! - but to keep persevering. The top number listed on the device was 5000; she said that was probably for men, who have a much larger lung capacity than most women, anyway. 

This practice was also hampered by the pleural effusion, but still I carried on and, in spite of the difficulties, I could get up to about 1500 at the maximum.

Now, after my sojourn with the lovely folk who relieved me of 1.5 litres of fluid via the drain, I regularly reach 2500. My next goal is 3000; I'm getting there!

Singing is still a big daily feature - I never knew I'd be able to sing so much, so consistently, and for so long, after what is still a relatively short time after the operation. I have more energy, and I am having wonderful telephone conversations with friends both in England and abroad, writing letters, firing off e-mails (happy ones, not belligerent complaints!) and writing more poetry. 

There are also further plans afoot for when the virus restrictions ease a little more, although we will never overstep the mark, and continue to be cautious and take care of ourselves. There is no real prospect for travel to Europe at the moment - and probably not until next year, at the earliest, because Wendy cannot risk being in the position of having not only the days of her holiday off from work, but also perhaps a further 10 days of isolation on our return. That would make things impossible for her, but it will be so good if and when we can make gentle trips further afield in England. 

A day trip would be nice! Watch this space!