I got back from nine days in hospital last night. I’ve had a stroke.
Two, in fact, on the morning of Wednesday 30th January. (Forgive the dramatic pause). It was very frightening. But 10 days later I can at least walk and talk, and I’ve been bloody lucky. My left hand is going to take a while to catch up with my right, so I’m doing therapeutic typing to get it going again. Watch out Facebook! (Actually, strike that. No one need fear that I’ll be deluging them with Mohamed the travelling bear, or The Dog That Does Absolutely Fucking Nothing. And I certainly won’t be making lists of my ‘top friends’ and then displaying them. Hold on, though. In that case, what exactly am I going to be doing?)
Lots of lovely friends came to see me. Last Sunday turned into a bit of a party round the bed, with me surrounded with flowers and chocolates and magazines. I read Daddy’s Girl by Stella Black (a novel that is brilliant, erotic, but above all wise), The Long Exile by Melanie McGrath (a heartbreaking, tragic account of the gratuitous relocation of Canadian Inuit to the high arctic in the 1950s), and I started Close by Martina Cole. By the time I’ve finished all 663 pages of that, I ought to be fully recovered.
As I’m still in media tart mode, I was furious that I had to cancel five BBC radio interviews at the end of last week, and a Spanish one this week. But I still managed to stay in touch with the world, with the help of wonderful Alex and his magic phone.
God, listen to me. Now’s the time when I should be taking up watercolours or something. Knitting is sadly off limits for the moment.
Posted on February 8, 2008 by taniaglyde
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