Having spent seven out of the last eight days in hospital, it's a pleasure to be back under my own roof.
There's some doubt now as to whether I actually had a DVT, and the consensus seems to be in favour of a pulled muscle, but my blood is replete with thinners now so either way, both angles are covered.
The two clinics were very different. Tripoli was on a building site (Beirut of blogs passim):
and Benghazi was directly opposite my flat:
The care here has been excellent - frequent scans, blood tests, consultations. The same can't be said for the food, but it has been regular, if not entirely to my taste. The Libyan diet is heavily dosed with sugar, and as an inactive bed-bound idler, I didn't need the energy bursts. I think I've probably put on a stone over the past week.
Thank you to all who've sent messages of support and advice - very much appreciated. It can be very isolating being in hospital in a foreign country, so contact with home has been really welcome. Not that I've been short of visitors - my students have been very attentive, even to the point of bringing me beer! Non-alcoholic, of course, but a lovely thought.
Here in Benghazi the nurses are very cheeky - one blew me a kiss yesterday, and another smiled tauntingly as she wiped the scanner lubricant from my groin. What teases.
Ah well, back to work on Sunday. I shall be glad to get stuck back in, and it's going to be a heavy term - being lenient with the marking last term means that some of the students have some serious consolidation to achieve. Each time they've been in to visit, I've emphasised the need to speak English at every opportunity, at work as well as play, so we'll see if they follow my advice.
