It's been almost a fortnight since I escaped from hospital and then crept back in the next morning. There'd been a screen around my empty bed all night so that no-one would notice that I was AWOL. Except it wasn't really without leave. A kind doctor allowed me to escape when I told him I had a talk to do. As my op' wasn't scheduled until the next day he said I could go if I promised to be back in bed by 7 the next morning before the shifts changed. I promised.
I gave an extra talk at the WI that night. It lasted a couple of minutes and had the title, You Don't Know How Lucky You are, Ladies. In it I explained how I'd escaped and why both my hands and elbows were bandaged up - one elbow to cover the plug where the drip was going to go in, hands and other elbows to cover the places a medical person had attempted to get blood out of me. My veins are invisible and, if found, refuse to give up blood. Then, when the needle has been removed I spurt blood like one of those cartoon cowboys who get peppered with shot, take a drink and the water shoots out of all the bullet holes.
My last meal before going under the knife was WI cake. Thank you.
I milked my predicament for all it was worth and had an attentive and sympathetic audience. The LSO is now wondering if I'm still milking the situation. But I am still having to visit a nurse every other day for new dressings. Ouch!