The vomiting is worse, if anything. Still a nasty shade of brown, reminding me of the contents of an old caravan plughole (sorry!).
People are starting to talk quietly around me, prodding my arms occasionally and looking a little worried. My consultant has been to see me every day, and has expressed his sorrow that I am not recovering as expected, and that I 'need to be kept an eye on, vomit-wise'.
I had been so looking forward to beginning the lovely re-building programme which I have printed out on the table near to me. 2 weeks fluids only (including milk, Bovril (yay!), soup, orange juice, hot chocolate and lovely, lovely fresh water.
Unfortunately, my body is rejecting all fluids unless they come down a line into one of my poor battered veins.
Looks like Day 1 Proper is going to have to wait.
Now the weekend approaches. Thank the Lord for friendly visitors coming and making me laugh (gently).
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