My First Outing Away From the Clinique
whetted my appetite for more
As he’s done every day since I was admitted to hospital just over three weeks ago, my partner has visited, shopping bags in hand. He brings treats, takes home my dirty washing, and returns it laundered the next day. He has truly been a huge part of my recovery progress and I hope he knows how much I appreciate and love him.
The clinique — where I’ve spent almost three weeks, give or take a day or two, I’m still slightly drugged up and I’ve never been good with numbers — is more flexible than the hospital. People leave for the weekend or walk into Lamalou village for a non-institutional meal. It’s a pleasant change to walk the leafy streets, or sit on a cafe terrace and watch the world go by.
Yesterday, we decided to get pizza. It was my first real foray out of the clinique — I’d walked endless corridors, crutches under my arms, but manoeuvring stairs, uneven pavements and a downhill slope was more of a challenge.
All went well though, the pizza wasn’t world-shattering, but it was nice to be outdoors. I indulged in a small glass of wine, cautious because of my various meds, but it seemed cause for celebration.
