I’m back home after a much longer spell in hospital than I expected. But I don’t mind – it was like a holiday, except that we had to make our own beds, change our own sheets and do our own laundry.

The experience was very good. Lots of people to talk to, both professionals and other patients. I got a hell of a lot out of the therapy sessions. Excellent instruction. I was sorry to leave and got some very nice feedback – very ego boosting. First names only in the hospital, so no way to catch up with the other patients, unfortunately. The occupational therapist even said if you see her outside the hospital, she won’t acknowledge you. What goes on inside stays inside.

I had a small kidney stone in the first week. Lots of blood, but not too much pain, thank goodness. I was nearly going to call an ambulance at 2am one morning, but the pain suddenly faded away and didn’t reoccur.

I also had a brain MRI. That’s an unusual experience, and not for the claustrophobic. There’s not much room in that tunnel. Lots of low frequency rhythmic drumming and vibration. Unfortunately, they didn’t find the juke box that I know is in there. I get tunes going around in my head all day, every day, 6IX type tunes.

Back to a very quiet house, with no Minnie to greet me. It’s a bit hard to get used to.

Yesterday, Minnie went to sleep, permanently. My heart is broken, but it had to be done. She had no quality of life any more and she was weighing so heavily on my mind as to badly affect me. Yesterday was, I think, the hardest day of my life.

Minnie est mort. RIP my daughter.