Tuesday, July 31, 2012

At Liberty, at Last


Well, here's the latest from the Itinerant Invalid:  after a full day of bureaucratic wrangling yesterday, I was finally able to get the go-ahead from the Powers Medical and Adminstrative who have for the past two weeks controlled our lives.  Presuming all goes well for the rest of the day, this evening Mr. Muscato and I will resume our interrupted journey home.

Because we started out coming through London, we're being sent back that way, which means a layover.  I doubt that we'll take in much of the Games - I mostly want to stock up on goodies from Boots, in truth, and possibly score a final good pub dinner - but we're thankful that the predicted Apocalyptic Olympic Hotel Shortage never took place, so we'll be once again ensconced for a night in the very convenient hotel near Marble Arch that was our base on the trip out.

Thanks to all of you who've been thoughtfully inquiring as to our well-being.  This has been an interesting experience, if nothing else my first glimpse of what lies ahead.  It is sobering to be, for the the first time of any seriousness, inhabiting a body that refuses to do more or less what you want it do, that takes on, as it were, a seemingly malevolent mind of its own.  We are being sent off with an array of new prescriptions, strict instructions, and further referrals.  Whatever.  As long as they get us back to our own house, our own bed, and the doubtless frenzied attentions of the infinitely missed dogs, we'll cope.

6 comments:

  1. Judging from the poster, you'll be coming to a London that aspires to be still in 1966!

    At least you have Boots the Chemist to look forward to - nice to have something to remember London by. Good luck on the next leg of the longest long-haul in history...

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    1. Actually, I think I spend a fair amount of my life aspiring toward 1966. Don't we all?

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  2. Glad to hear that your long international nightmare is soon to end. My five day hospital stint for the mystery heart ailment that was never detected despite a dazzling array of tests (I would not wish a TEE on my worst enemy) was trying enough. I can't imagine having to undergo such invasions and indignities so far from home.

    Safe travels. Better health. And, yes, age is a bitch.

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    1. Oh, dear - I've had echos and nuclear stresses and all sorts of nonsense, but no one even threatened me with a TEE - I'll have to look it up. Once we're home, though, as it sounds disturbing...

      As for age, I always try to remember Ruth Elizabeth's wise words: it ain't for sissies. Metaphorically, at least, as I'm one sissy who plans to old.

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  3. It's important to remember we are all older now than Norma Desmond was in Sunset Boulevard. Sobering isn't it?

    Bon voyage.

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    1. She was 51. I'm not there yet! Jx

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