When I went in to see Lesley today they had moved her from the main ICU to a single side room, still in that department but out of the hustle and bustle. She had said that she felt as if she was on duty all the time, so this may be more restful. And yes, SHE HAD REACHED THOSE WHISTLES. They were in her hands and she was playing the fingering. OK, she can’t get her hands up to her mouth, but that is a minor matter! She thinks that the only reason she can’t move is the intensity of the pain, therefore she CAN move and therefore she WILL move. And, as I saw, she had. She said she could get her hands higher, but she can see what it does to the heart monitor, so she thought better of it. Discretion is definitely the better part of valour.
She still looks fragile, almost transparent, and is a bit blue-looking at times, but she is so tough. She has also demanded paper and pencil, plus manuscript paper, all of which were luckily in her bag in her locker, and are now in her possession.
Lesley said that it feels as if she had been wandering, lost, in a dark forest for months, and she has suddenly come to a sunny clearing, with butterflies and paths leading out. The paths may be rocky and uphill, but at least she can see a path. Now she has to decide to follow it.
The medics are still worrying about her exhaustion, pain and fluttery heart, but there is a determination back in her eyes now, and at last I feel more confident. This is one tough girl: she is my wife and I am so proud of her.
My thanks go out to you all yet again for all your good wishes and care. We both owe you a debt we will never be able to repay.
Roland (mr devondancer)
