Bowen Hospital

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Tonight I go into Bowen Hospital’s Sleep Unit for the night. I’m not looking forward to it. Last time I went there for  monitoring I ended up in the public hospital for five days. They’d discovered that apparently my apnoea (stopping breathing while I’m sleeping) was life-threatening. So if the blog goes off the air for a while it will be a reasonable assumption that something similar has happened.

Friday is not a good day to go into hospital. Week-end is a quiet time. Life support is maintained, testing and diagnosis are at a minimum. Still with the country facing a savage equinox storm it could be a safe place. We had planned to take me tonight in pyjamas and dressing gown but that may need to be rethought.

What a joy-germ I appear. I’ve rarely slept well in strange beds. I have routines to help me wind-down. I need help to change my socks. Will I be able to get out of the chair? There are times when I wish my imagination did not range around my frailty.

I’ve just received an email from Margaret my sister-in-law. describing her first visit to Christchurch. Personal descriptions of the devastation bring home the extent of the disaster. But she ends her email ‘Hope you enjoyed the rest of your holiday, Harvey. .I had 3 merino stud lambs born that day – future show fleeces! New little pigs in the sty – two chocolate-coloured with stripes running length-wise. Very cute. Spring is here.’ The promised gale will probably affect them more than me.

Post Script

Having written it I hesitated about putting up this blog. I published it as it was. As I ate my breakfast I decided to withdraw it. But when I got back there was already a comment. So I’ve left it. But I’m twitchy. Part of that is the fact that I’m even less in control than I normally am. Others are setting the timetable, circumstances and details. I can but accept what has been planned. What should be seen as a challenge is perceived as a loss. Nature will run its course. Roll round tomorrow.