Day 21

Today's post is one which I expected/hoped not to write. I think I thought I'd be in here for a week (or a fortnight, maximum) and one morning the use of my legs would return as quickly as it vanished. This would be followed by a brief apology from the staff ("there's been a cock up, those aren't your scan/LP results, you're fine, go home and qualify as a midwife") and then I'd go back to Cambridge (via Rushden for a cuddle with Jaws, of course), pick up my old life exactly where I left off and forget all about this. But on day 21, this obviously hasn't happened, and isn't going to.

I'm making frustrating amounts of progress. Not big enough for me to think "ah, that's grand, I'll be able to go on my next placement in 3wks and just use a stick to walk" but not small enough for me to completely give up my last hope of qualifying this year either. It's the uncertainty which is making me a bit of a mess. I'd be devestated if I were forced to intermit (my training has been an excellent distraction/coping strategy for a lot of very shit life events over the past 2 years) but if I knew rather than suspected then I could get working on plan B.

Let's look at the positives, though. I'm laying in a comfy bed in a side room with a disabled person en suite having (admittedly quite shit) food brought to me, life is feeling quite nice when the morphine kicks in, and I've got lots of Harry Potter films to drowsily watch (and GoT, for when I'm less high). 

I think legs are overrated.

Love Emily x

P.s. Look at this little fella that my dad made out of stolen hospital equipment...