Well Hello, and apologies for the silence.  I think its fair to say that the silence is representative of what's going on in my wee nut of a head at the moment. Silence, numb, blank, surviving and grateful to get to bed at night.
I'm almost positive this is some kind of psychological defence coping mechanism that I've unofficially signed up for, and it's a welcome relief.

As you know, my dearest Papa, Eckie D took his final journey on 1st September. On the 13th September I was taken into hospital by my hubby and my son.  (When I say 'taken in', I mean by  travel journey as it was impossible for them to come into the actual hospital with me!) As I entered the Planned Admissions Unit, I was greeted with the usual survey of covid related questions.....then came confirmation requirement of next of kin.  "Eric Duffus? - is your father still your next of kin - can we get an updated mobile please?" (Geezo, I do hope they haven't being trying to contact him). Standing on my designated pink 2 meter spot dot on the floor, I confirmed that Eric is no longer my next of kin.  Not because of some Judge Rinder (or any other) reality feud drama, but because he's left me to go to Heaven.  I named my husband 'Derrick' as next of kin. Of course with facemasks, it somehow effects our ability to hear, and she advises that "Eric, has left you, so it can't be him" I almost shout "DERRICK" that I almost hear him stomping down the corridor like a pup obeying commands. With the next of kin situ finally resolved, I breathe and remind myself why I'm here.

Today is the day "Ta ta Titties" Day.  With no bunting, balloons, cake, party music, party hats, streamers, I'm guessing this isn't quite the venue to celebrate.  In fact it was a very sombre affair.  Isolated in a room, with only my thoughts for company.  Then my hero, Mr Tumble (my surgeon) comes striding into the room, complete with folder of paperwork and surgical pen to; I quote "Mark you up".  Sounded like a proposal for an altercation in a rough neck pub.  

Anyway, after being 'marked up', he sits back and asks how I am. Before answering, he goes on to tell me how very sorry he is. "Life, has been very unkind to you recently. I can empathise how you may be feeling, I lost my own father on 21st November last year, and because he was in Oman, I have yet to see his grave."  I look at him, astonished that he is connecting with me emotionally.  Now, I'm not quite sure if this is pure coincidence or some 'spiritual work from above' but what I found even more astonishing was the date his late father died, was the exact same date my mother died, almost 5 years ago.  

I walked to the theatre from my isolation cell, walking into theatre was like something I have never experienced before (usually I'm under anaesthetic prior to going into theatre.) On this occasion, it was walking onto a set created by 'Casualty'.  I literally witnessed every bit of equipment that was to be used.  My veins were acting decidedly elusive and hid for dear life, so they had no option but to gas me to sleep to then enable cannulas to be inserted.  The last thing I remember was saying "Night night".

I don't remember speaking upon awakening, but Mr Tumble tells me the day after, that on wakening I pull off my oxygen mask and tell him "Thank you, but I've changed my mind, I want my tits to stay".  Thankfully even under the influence of strong meds, I still follow this sentence with a wry smile and chuckle. 

After a very confusing and uncomfortable  12 hours of in and out of sleep, seeing my mother by my bed (dreaming, I know, in case you think I've lost touch with reality as well as my titties.) I am beginning to re-join reality.

I arrive home the following day, emotions replicating the emotions of when I arrived home back in Scotland after taking time out to travel the world in my 20's. I am overwhelmed.  Everyone and everything is the same as I remember it. 

Now it was time to begin my recovery..........and that too has tales to be told, but fatigue grabbing at my concentration and eyelids, I will update you all on that laters......

In the meantime I wish to thank each and everyone of you for being in my life, for following my circus of a life, and the incredible kindness that has been shown.  I absolutely love each and everyone of my gifts, cards and flowers - you have no idea how much it brings colour to my life.  Although I word of caution - although I love and devour the chocolates, whilst in line at pharmacy the other day, a woman asked how much longer of my pregnancy I had to go! I confirmed I was indeed not pregnant, but was she was witnessing a constipated fat bastard who tells 'body shamers to do one.'  Conversation ceased. 

Night night, and much to you all x