Suffice to say, it’s day 11 and I am totally starting to lose my marbles. It’s just an inevitable decline from “I am strong, I can do this, it’s all going to be fine” to a blubbering heap of “I can’t do this anymore, I just want to take him home, I want a cuddle, he’s been through enough”… however, being an emotional wreck doesn’t really change the fact we’re still going to stay hospital hostages for at least another week.
Dom is now back from theatre, he’s ok. It took a bit longer than normal because his body had kind of adopted the hernia so they needed to unpick it to put it back.
When he came back he was actually fairly awake – which was lovely until he assessed his situation and started silent crying. That is the worst thing in the world. Not only is he in pain, uncomfortable with a giant tube down his nose, forced to lie on his back, swaddled so he can’t move – he also can’t even vocalise how upset he is.
This traumatises me.
Anyway, he’s back on he sedatives and asleep, and being fed again so he should just rest for the rest of the afternoon.