God that night was the worst of my life. The pain was almost unbearable. Dr G came to visit wiith his entourage (as he does) and I said I'd had a lot of pain at which point he flipped and the poor nurses got the full force of his wrath. Oh dear. One nurse was present who explained to the others what the pump was, how it functioned etc. Same old questions - can you feel your feet, do you have much pain....YES I BLOODY WELL DO! Also, a newly acquired sensation in my left thigh. A searing, buring pain. I had mentioned it before but no-one really took any notice.
Dr G moved on and the "breakfast" arrived. Good God I had forgotten how the French enjoy their breakfast. The kind lady came into the room and asked me what she could get me for breakfast at which point I said a cup of coffee. A smallish tray appeared with what appeared to be a cereal bowl...full of black coffee!! To accompany it, 2 bits of "french toast", a pat of butter and a tub of indifferent jam. I struggled to work the controls on my bed and managed to sort of lever myself into a positiion where I could at least drink the coffee, thought eating anything without major spillage proved more difficult.
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