Progress happens; is erratic and slow, but happens.

Last Monday I went for a preliminary screening with the nurse at the Frederiksberg Cancer Centre. We were agreed that I need to be stronger before I can sign up for any rehab courses. So I have appointments with a physio and a dietitian in the next two weeks to try to get some very simple excercises for my back and to put on weight. And to reduce the amount of energy that I use in keeping warm, Keith is sewing me a track suit out of double density baby blanket fleece with a high tog and clo rating.

Last Tuesday I had a final appointment with the operating team. It was nice to see Jesper Holst, the surgeon who had operated on me four years ago. My lung is absolutely fine and he advised stopping the Ibuprofen and the “slow release” Oxycodon (opiods). I should continue with the paracetamol and take “fast acting” Oxycodon as and when I need them. I can also stop wearing the corset and the nurse removed the stitches from the third drain. It really feels like good progress.

Yesterday, we went to my own doctor to get our Life Certificates signed for the UK pension service. While there she went very carefully over how I am and was most insistent that I get back in touch in good time for more pills. I fell well looked after.

Luke has been to visit. One day we made it round the block to the Musik Konditori cafe, the next to Lagkagehuset and my favourite Flying Tiger shop. One evening we went to a concert at KoncertKirken. I do sleep at least 12 to 13 hours a day and rest prone for several more. My left ribs are still numb and often feel strangely heavy, and I’m generally in less pain than before, probably because I feel more in control knowing I have the Oxycodon “bombers” to hand.

I think I have to remember that although it is now four weeks since the op, I had the misfortune of the collapsed lung, which has set me back a couple of weeks. I have to smile when I think how two doctors have sympathetically described the incident as “irriterende” literally meaning annoying. The doctor who actually treated me and put the drain in described it as “pisse irriterende” (literally pissing annoying, but bloody unfortunate would be a better translation). I was really quite taken aback, that is not the sort of language I would normally expect from a doctor!