..... and here I am once more, recharged and raring to go after a ten day 'holiday' which separated me from my day to day life on the farm and gave me time to think about things. And one of the things I came to realise was that I miss writing, and that I must not allow the busyness of my life to push aside this need to write. The 'holiday' made me realise this, hence this blog.
However, ......................... the 'hotel' I stayed in was not my first choice, nor was my mode of transport to get to it, being a ride in the middle of the night in an ambulance, the destination being the hospital in Tarbes which then became my 'hotel' for the next few days. Thus did the holiday arrive unexpectedly into my life.
I could not say that it was the best of times staying in the emergency cardiac ward for ten days although the view from the window in my room was superb, being a close up of the Pyrenees mountains. I spent hours looking at them, and seeing the light play on them throughout the day was fascinating to behold. I missed that view when I was shifted into the main cardiac unit.
I thought I had flu, but it seemed to be lingering on and on. I was having high night time temperatures sufficient to soak the bed, but I thought it was the flu virus. And then a night time visit to the loo fetched me up down on the floor, and nothing seemed to want to work to get me up again, hence the trip in the ambulance to be deposited in ICU, where I was fussed over by the most gloriously handsome set of male nurses and doctors who spent ages looking in amazement at the heart monitor which was behind me, quizzing me as to why I did not have any heart pain when the monitor was showing that it should be otherwise.
Not to worry, I stayed affable and kept on smiling, because that is what you do when you are an English girl living abroad, 'stiff upper lip' and all that.
And so my 'holiday' began as I was shipped out to the emergency cardiac unit, whereupon I had needles inserted here and there putting I don't know what into my system, and then there was the tube which was inserted into my nether regions with a urine bag attached to the other end of it which I prefer to not talk about because, well, it was not the nicest of experiences I have ever had.
And reminding you that because I live in France, that these were French nursing staff looking after me, so of course they spoke in French. I can speak French as well, but my French vocabulary was nowhere to be found, except for the odd word popping into my head, mostly 'merci' (thankyou), 'pas probleme' (it's not a problem), ........ just small words meant to reassure the nursing staff that I was OK about their treatment of me, which was not alright sometimes, but being 'stiff upper lipped' I would not have complained even if I had had the French words to do so.
Anyway, I survived. It was not my time to pass over.
So what had happened to make me fetched up on the floor of the bathroom?
Well, my liver and kidneys were under attack by an infection which must have been brewing for days if not weeks, which then eventually made my heart go silly with the effort of coping with it all.
I am not saying that my heart is sound, but it is doing well enough for the years it has been working, 70 in total. As for the liver and kidneys, these I must be more attentive to, making sure I take notice should they complain again in the future.
As with any difficult experiences, rather than feeling sorry for myself I have put the experience behind me, preferring to look upon it is an unexpected holiday, and that it has made me review certain things in my life, which is good.
And so I returned back to the farm, a little shaky, but on my feet.
And I feel blessed that I have this life to return to, that keeps me busy, that does not allow for laziness of self which could happen if all I had was the TV and social media to keep me occupied. It is good that we had a very good harvest of peppers to bring in from the veg garden, and which I had to do because a large oak tree had fallen on the fencing of the back field and broken down the wiring of the fence so before it could be mended, so the tree had to be cut up, and this was the job of the moment for my OH. He has just counted the rings on the tree and it is fifty years old. It was toppled by some sort of rot at its base. Well I was not toppled this time, although nearly was, and I am now off into the veg garden to plant some onions.
Onwards, ever onwards!!!
PS. Should you ever have to stop an escapee cow from cavorting round the veg garden and therefore trampling everything to death under the weight of her mega sized feet and pregnant body, if you have a scarf around your neck then remove that scarf and flip it about like a whip. Of course the scarf will lack the resilience of a proper leather whip, but if at the same time you yell in as deep and gruff a voice as you can manage 'turn around, go back' or any other words you care to use, then the cow might feel challenged enough to take notice of you. Just offering these thoughts to you should you also find yourself in a similar position.
Bye for now,