Fife: 3 – 9 January

No noticeable progress this week; your regular blogging service will resume next Monday.

As hoped and expected, Himself had the septoplasty operation last Wednesday and recovery is slow but going to plan – he’s effectively confined to bed with what he describes as a combination of a hangover, jet-lag and a migraine, and is planning a self-help book called “how to lose weight on a diet of blood and mucus” which should be a best-seller. Oh, and if anyone has the secret if time travel, he would like to know so he can go back in time and tell himself not to have the blasted operation in the first place.

I can’t imagine what it’s like to have your nose rearranged from the inside.  It’s certainly taken the fizz out of the gin, and no mistake.  Apart from short bursts of activity to sit over a steaming bowl to cleanse nasal passages, the rest of the time is spent prone on the bed.  Perhaps waiting for death, I haven’t asked.  There are occasionally brief episodes of lucidity, when the congestion clears.  Then the traffic jams up again, and clarity goes on holiday.  At night, sleep is only possible flat on his back, propped up, sporting a rather fetching white gauze pad – think reverse polar bear, but cuter.

Anaesthetically speaking, the op was a far greater success than the cataract ops – there was no post-op nausea or side-effects.  Aesthetically speaking, you’d never know he’d had an op.  The surgery was all where the likes of you and I can’t see it, in the dark dripping regions of the sinuses.  There’s even a splint up there, to keep everything on the straight and narrow.  That comes out Friday. Apparently the splint can be up to 4 in. long, but it’s a preferable alternative to yards of gauze packing . . . But progress has been steady; each day the breathing is slightly easier, the congestion slightly less, the oozing lighter . . .

So, hopefully, Gordon will be back next week, and thanks for all your get well wishes.

Margaret