To be honest, my gunk started turning green the day I was set free. I waited a couple of days, then started cipro. However my usually magic oral didn't even touch whatever was down there, and the last few days have been really hard work. I woke up this morning fighting for breath - which was pretty good timing given I called the Brompton on wednesday saying I need to be seen ASAP and was booked to be seen on Lind ward this morning.
So here I am, after a day of bloods and x-rays and coughing up crap, sitting in room 28A, gazing out onto the Fulham road and the vast luxurious smorgasbord of sky that kept me so sedate over my 2 month admission back in April. And it hasn't disappointed yet - a deep orange sun cast its pinky orangey glow right into my room, as mini splatters of clouds scattered the whole canvas. There's something oddly calming that i'm back reunited with this familiar view - I suppose being so high up and seeing such a vast expanse of sky makes me feel as if i'm not so restrained, as if i'm not missing out on so much of the world from my ivory tower as its all here, right in front of me for my eager to eyes to peer at endlessly. This view has now I suppose also become synonymous with recovery and getting better - I know when i'm here i'm in good hands.
I'm being given meroprenem this time, which worked wonders when I came in a month ago. They've decided not to give me any anti-fungals as I haven't grown any in ages and it's only been 2 weeks since I stopped my last course. There was discussion as to whether this exacerbation was due to the Cytomegalovirus (CMV) which my donor had, as the anti-virals I was on to suppress it was stopped 2 weeks ago, and weirdly my CRP (infection level) isn't too dire. I haven't been at all coldy or fluey (which I was told would happen if the virus became active in my body), and Addenbrookes have said hold off on giving any anti-virals just yet. The blood test that indicates whether the CMV is active doesn't say how much of it is active, but it is. We're hoping as we treat the infection the virus will just do its thing and buzz off.
Im pretty glad to be back here - obviously not really, but I hope this time it'll sort me out good and proper so in a few weeks I can be back to getting on with LIFE. I'm pretty pumped about stuff at the moment, but there is a good lull these few weeks where i can just concentrate on getting back to tip top condition. This lust for life probably hasn't helped my cause (are you singing Iggy yet?) as i've been dashing about across London (and beyond!) for the past 2 weeks like a loony. I probs got loads of germs. Its this huge moral(?) dilemma isn't it - do you stay healthy and sit in your bubble at home, or go out and do fun stuff but risk getting run down? It's a fight i've had battling out in my head the last 24 years (um technically), though of course I didn't think about important stuff until I was at least, um... i'll go with 23. I lived a blissfully ignorant life until I started drinking and staying out late and realising 'If I go out clubbing without a jacket and drink loads and then sit on the beach and don't get home until 5 yes I will be coughing the next day'. LIFE EH. (That wasn't when I was 23. 23 is a lie.) I still blindly and lovingly follow the Keatsian mind set: "O! For a life of sensation rather than of thoughts!", though it didn't suit him very well now, did it... (I think where I and Mr Keats differ is that I would now have brought a better coat and waay more layers if I went walking through the Lake District. In winter. Silly boy.)
Now the sky is a musty inky blue, with a single glowing white cloud in the middle and the flashing red lights of a plane sailing off. Recently i've been desperately hoping I could escape somewhere for a bit - i've been secretly planning trips in my head, wondering if they could become a reality. This bubble was somewhat burst when I realised you have to wait a year after transplant to go anywhere abroad, so I suppose i'll spend each moment watching planes planning somewhere I can escape to in February - a year after my transplant. Those flashing red dots are so alluring!
Anyway, as I haven't really got dressed or brushed my hair or done my make up for 3 days, this is the only 'allright' picture of my NEW HAIR COLOUR! I had so stay red, it's just a bit deeper. It's a semi-permanent, but tempted to go permanent... whaddya think?!