Location: Virgen de la Caridad Hospital, Cartagena, and Los Alcázares, Murcia, Spain
Summary: I spent the start of the week still in hospital, going through endless drips, scans and bland meals, before finally being discharged on Thursday. The rest of the week was spent recovering at home, dealing with pain, medical appointments, and trying to get back to some kind of normal routine.
Monday, 7th April
I woke around 06:45, and by 07:00 the nurse had already swapped out last night’s drip for a fresh one with painkillers. Breakfast arrived at 07:30, the usual coffee and tostada. After eating, the nurse removed the drip so I could wash and change.
A woman from hospital administration came in with a questionnaire. She asked me to rate the hospital out of ten. I thought about it and settled on a seven. When she asked what I liked most, the only honest answer I could give was that the room was nice. Before we got any further, two nurses arrived to clean and redress the wounds on my foot. My consultant came in halfway through, and I told her that although the wounds were sore, the ankle itself was still the most painful part. She told me I would be taken for MRI scans later in the morning.
At 09:30, the porter who had helped me on my first day wheeled me down to the MRI room. The scan felt like the longest I’ve ever had. When it was over, the nurse helped me back into the wheelchair with far more care than when I arrived. The porter asked if I was in pain and gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder when I said yes. Back in my room, I sat on the sofa and let my mind run wild, convincing myself I might lose my foot or even my leg.
When the pain eased a little, I hobbled to the vending machines and bought a coffee and a slice of chocolate cake. Chocolate cake always helps. Supper was bland again, and I felt a bit sorry for myself knowing my friends were out having curry at Masala Cottage while I was stuck with hospital salad and a burger.
Tuesday, 8th April
I woke at 06:30 and had the morning drip connected. After breakfast, the nurse removed the drips so I could wash. My consultant came in around 09:30 and told me my blood pressure had been high for a few days. I wasn’t surprised. Being in hospital alone, in pain, with nurses who speak limited English, is stressful. She gave me a tablet to put under my tongue and told me I could go home on Thursday at lunchtime.
She also said I should try to exercise a little, so I walked slowly to the hospital café and treated myself to a coffee and an apple pastry. It felt good to be out of the room, even if my ankle complained the whole way back.
Later, I got a message from Marcus, a German friend I met on my Brazil cruise. He had also just been in hospital with an infection. Misery loves company, I suppose. I also decided I would keep the bidet at home because it will be easier to wash my feet with it than bending over in the shower. My slippers stink and will need washing when I get home.
In the afternoon, Martin and Kate visited and walked with me to the café. When I got back to my room, the nurse hooked me up to another drip. Liz messaged to say she had intercepted my DHL delivery — my old and new passports. Great news. As soon as I’m fit enough, I can start planning my next adventure.
In the evening, I remembered Arsenal were playing Real Madrid. The hospital TV didn’t show the match, but it had Real Madrid TV with Spanish commentary over a static picture of the Emirates. I couldn’t understand a word, but I recognised the crowd noise. Arsenal won 3-0, and I went to bed happy.
Wednesday, 9th April
I woke feeling better. The nurse connected the first drip of the day, and once it emptied, I disconnected it myself so I could wash. I put on my Arsenal shirt to wind up the Real Madrid supporting porter. When he came in, he laughed, shook my hand and said he thought Arsenal would win the Champions League.
Two nurses came to redress my wounds, and my consultant confirmed I could go home tomorrow. One nurse joked that my scars were necrosis, then said they were actually a shark bite. She burst out laughing when I showed her my shirt with “Sharky” on it.
I walked to the café again for a coffee and pastry, then took a selfie outside the hospital. A woman tried to park her car in the one space I was standing in, despite the entire car park being empty. I made her wait until I finished my photo and silently prayed the car park barrier would trap her inside later.
I spent the afternoon finishing a Bernard Laskin book. In the evening, the nurse struggled to get the drip working because she used a connector with a 90 degree bend. The three bags took two hours to empty instead of thirty minutes. I finally got to sleep around 02:00.
Thursday, 10th April
I barely slept before the nurse woke me to attach the morning drips. At least she used a straight connector this time. After washing and packing my things, breakfast arrived. A nurse took blood, and another changed my dressing. My consultant said I could leave as soon as the results came back.
Liz messaged to ask if I needed anything. I asked her for milk. George and Yvonne arrived at 12:00 to take me home, but my paperwork wasn’t ready. We went to the café for coffee and pastry and returned to the room. The paperwork finally arrived just after 14:00.
We drove back to Los Alcázares and stopped at Buen Sabor. I bought chicken in sauce with chips, a salad and a pork and chips meal. After ten days of bland hospital food, it tasted amazing. Liz popped in later with my mail, including my new passport. I booked a doctor’s appointment for the next morning and watched the Masters golf before bed.
Friday, 11th April
I woke before my alarm and went to make coffee, only to find flies everywhere. They were coming from old coffee grounds left in the machine before I went to hospital. I cleaned it out and headed to the clinic on my disability scooter.
The doctor read my hospital notes, checked my blood pressure and gave me a prescription for Gabapentin. She said I would need more blood tests but could now have them done locally. Liz offered to come with me to help with the Spanish. With her help, I booked appointments for today and Monday.
At 13:00, the nurse cleaned and redressed my wounds. It was excruciating. Even she was surprised at how painful it was. Afterwards, Liz took me to Buen Sabor again, and I bought more meals. I ate peppered steak and chips, took painkillers and fell asleep. Later, I watched the Masters and ended up eating both the tuna and egg salad and the meat stew before bed.
Saturday, 12th April
I slept well and woke at 06:45. If I were still in hospital, the nurses would be connecting my drips at that time. Instead, I had to get myself up. I made coffee, put washing on, cleaned the kitchen and ran the dishwasher. Then I sat in my armchair puffing like a steam train.
In the evening, I watched Arsenal dominate Brentford but only manage a 1-1 draw. Without a proper striker, we struggle to finish chances. After the match, I put away the clean washing and loaded the dishwasher again. I tried to sleep at 23:00 but couldn’t, so I worked on my website until 06:00.
Sunday, 13th April
I woke at 09:30 feeling tired and still in pain. I made coffee and porridge and sat with my feet up. I worked on my website, had a crash, got it fixed and carried on. I spent the whole day trying to change the navigation system.
With no thawed food, I had peanut butter and jam sandwiches for lunch and dinner. In the evening, I watched the final round of the Masters. It was dramatic, with McIlroy and DeChambeau battling before Justin Rose surged back. It ended in a playoff, and McIlroy won. I finally got to bed at 01:30, feeling as drained as the players.
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