Panic, escape, and a small dash of normality.

I had a panic last night. Total communication crisis and panic, in fact. I broke my phone - disaster! I feel a bit cut off in hospital at the best of times, but losing voice communications was particularly nasty, and I sent out an email cry-for-help. Funny how things get out of proportion late at night. After a fairly sleepless night (still can't quite shake off those abdominal pains), I realised this morning that I might just be able to get my old mobile phone as an emergency backup... It was time for an escape plan.

As I've been feeling fairly bright and perky the last few days I decided to take a bit of a gamble and try a dash home by myself to get the replacement phone. It all felt bizarrely like a bit of an adventure - I even managed to feel guilty sneaking out of the ward without telling anyone, bag on shoulder carrying my trusty supplies of Scarf for the walking bits, Su Doku magazine for the bus, and laptop for sitting at home and recovering.

Being a skinny little runt it felt damned cold out, but I valiantly brought out my trusty scarf and survived the walk to the bus stop. Quick dash to the newsagent to top up my Oyster card, deftly avoiding being run over by a bus that luckily turned out not to be mine, and back to the bus shelter, ignoring the strange wimpering snorting noises from the old woman sat next to me. I buried my face in my Su Doku and pretended to not notice her staring at me (had she noticed my prison tag? sorry, I mean hospital bracelet...?)

Anyway, bus arrived, I hid at the back, buried in the Su Doku again and ignored everyone (particularly carefully in Brixton) all the way to Streatham, and finally home, which was just a short walk away.

It was odd being at home, when the longest I've been there since September has been a couple of minutes to pop in and collect clothes/books/papers on the way into hospital the last couple of times. Still, didn't take me long to find the spare phone, plug in, breathe a huge sigh of relief, and bring out my trusty laptop to check email.

The rest didn't last long as the first email was from Dad saying he'd be coming to visit earlier than planned, so I was straight up and out again and back to hospital. Journey back was more irritating, as I missed my bus by seconds, but I proudly marched back into my room in the ward in plenty of time, noting happily that I'd temporarily missed having my blood taken due to being AWOL! (Didn't last long, they soon tracked me down, the efficient swine that they are...)

Dad and Carole arrived, bringing lots of post and lunch with them, and stayed a nice long time. We even managed a discussion about theoretical physics, though I'm not sure how thrilling that was for Carole! (I know, I am so sad)

Short interlude then Jane arrived about 4pm, bring me a delicious looking M&S ready meal (brave of her, she apparently has ready-meal-phobia) and some great reading material, and we chatted non-stop until 5:30 when Peter arrived too. We were still talking when Sharon arrived at 6:30, with Ian and Joss on the way. Pete and Jane said their goodbyes, and then Sharon and I went off to meet the other two for dinner at Nandos.

It is so nice to do normal things, in normal places. Had a fantastic meal, then Sharon and I watched dance videos and reminisced and planned to take over the world (when I'm better).

An amazing day, which didn't exhaust me, and where I managed something close to normality at times. Is this the shape of things to come? Will I get well enough to work a little bit, and dare I even hope it, dance a bit? On the other hand, If I still look like I'm better on Wednesday will they refuse me my transplant? Sigh.

Lots to think about. In the meantime I have an apparently extremely painful arterial blood sample procedure tomorrow, and a hopefully more comfortable electrocardiogram. That should round off the medical tests, leaving me to wait until Wednesday for the Big Transplant Decision.

Watch this space...

PS Doctors and Nurses all convinced I have a temperature. Firmly sticking to my guns that it is just my room is outrageously hot, and that they don't need to inject me with more drugs!

PPS My hair is getting stupidly long, for me. Pete and Jane said I looked well - bright-eyed and bushy-haired. Doh! If anyone says I look like Mark Ballas (those of you who know him), I'll cry.