Recuperation

Recuperation Is Sloo....oow
Just out of hospital I felt ready to get my act together again. But it turns out it's not quite like that. There's a period of purgatory that has to be gone through first, what the French call “le contre-choque”. You get worse before you start to get better. The fatigue I expected but not the accompanying kind of Montezuma's Revenge. Given that I've lost a chunk of colon and intestine it may seem obviously to be expected but expect it I didn't.

I mentioned this to the nurse who comes in daily to dress the wound and she asked what I was eating; all the wrong things, it seems. So, no more salad stuff, no raw vegetables and no fresh fruit other than very ripe apricots or peaches; just when the local market stalls are groaning under the weight of all this at knock-down prices. No more charcuterie either and no fatty foods. So what is allowed? Bread, potatoes, rice and grilled meat or fish, fruit compote and yoghourt. Well, I've (more or less) stuck to that for a week now and it seems to be working. The meals I eat, after passing through my stomach, no longer seem to grow spikes to let me know exactly where they are as they progress through the rest of my system. And the fatigue is going. But it does seem to be taking an inordinate amount of time.

If this sounds like a period of unmitigated misery it hasn't been. Friends have been very supportive, I cooked the gammon I've had in my freezer since Christmas, made a batch of chili jam and have just experienced what must be a record aperitif session. The ham (steeped in cider for a week) gave me a small way of paying back some of the favours I have received and was generally greeted with demands for the recipe. The chili jam has turned out even better than I hoped since I had to guess the recipe from the ingredients list on a jar I bought in England. Unfortunately it's on the doubtful list on my current diet but it will keep. The lady who comes in to do some house cleaning for me, Patricia, described it as “spécial”, meaning something like bizarre. The French generally have an aversion to chili, even in jam it seems! And the aperitif record was today. Friend Dominique invited me to “apéros” at midday to celebrate his birthday and I arrived to find tables laid out under tents and a barbecue going. I left eventually at a quarter to six, and then only because musicians were arriving and fatigue was setting in.

The surgeon who operated on me came into my room once when I was playing some Brahms on my computer. He was a fan. He wasn't familiar with the string sextets though so I've ordered a CD through Amazon and will give it to him when I return to the hospital for a check-up in 10 days' time.