It’s about 72 hours since my last seizure. That’s twice the length of time between that and the previous seizure. Hopefully, that’s a sign that the medication is winning against Dr Nazi.
I’m really hoping that this means the surgery will go ahead tomorrow (and is successful) and I’ll be disappointed if it doesn’t. However, if Mr H thinks that it’s not safe to go ahead because of the seizures (or anything else), then I have to accept his judgment.
I haven’t made it over to the RVI yet as there wasn’t a bed for me on a suitable ward (one for headcases like me). I need to be there by 8am tomorrow otherwise I might lose my slot with the specialist Awake surgery team. The ambulance to transfer me has been booked for the morning and has been told of the urgency. However, as the patient transport team can’t guarantee picking me up and/or getting me there on time, the RVI neuro team had implored the QE to ensure that I have a family member to act as a back-up team to get me there.
Mr C is therefore coming here at some ridiculously early time in the morning to wait with me. If the ambulance hasn’t arrived on time we can then shoot off. This is apparently not usual protocol for transfers so my nurse here at the QE had to ring “the Level 7 Sister downstairs” (sounds important) for approval (duly given).
It means that I am be spending my ninth consecutive night on the short-stay ward here at the QE. I’m expecting a hefty fine as the maximum stay is supposed to be 72 hours! I might have to play the brain tumour get out of jail card.
Today, I had soul-restoring visits from:
- the Rents;
- my husband for the first time since Wednesday;
- my kids for the first time in a week; and
- lovely friends, including the one shown below, who just flew in from Canada last night (and whom I haven’t seen for about a year and a half).
I might be able to update you tomorrow, depending on what happens. Otherwise, I’ll leave you in the hands of Mr Increasingly-Verbose.