Me recuperating, with poorly leg but chic bandage
(click on the picture to see a larger version)

ILLNESS UPDATE THU 22 DECEMBER

A month since I fell ill, I'm almost back to my old self. Recuperating from gastroenteritis, I eat three large meals a day - one up on my pre-illness ration, so that's good! (And a lot better than vomiting up every mouthful.) Instead of raw meat and IAMS biscuits, however, it's a melange of lactic acid, a gloopy liquid mush of meat and other nutritious stuff - you do wonder - chicken breast and rice. On balance, I'm on to a good thing here, and I may come to regret the restoration of normal service, when it's restored. Only I seem to get NO "TREATS" anymore.

My weight will take more time to return to the pre "toxic insult" state than it took me to lose 30% of my body weight. Today (21 December), I weighed 9 pounds however, 2 pounds up on my thinnest, but I'm still pretty bony.Before my jugular catheter implant was removed on 2 December, I had three stylish and colourful bandages, a large donut-shaped one around my neck and two on my front legs because of the hematomas from earlier intravenous feedings and blood plasma. (You can see the remaining one in the picture.)

A lot of my hair comes out each time its combed, and I do seem a little double-jointed from loss of muscle tone. I get to go for my usual walks but the recent two-mile one to get the Christmas tree slowed me down to the extent that Dorothy felt she had to carry me home. (She put me down when cars passed, however, alleging it was for my amour propre.) Sunday for the first time I brought them toys for them to throw and me to fetch. Monday I leaned out of the car window, once again playing Snoopy as the Red Baron. All that's missing is those crazy half-hours when I run madly about the house doing low pretend growls. I don't know why but I'm just not up for it.

Expressions of good will included telephone enquiries, calls at the door, get well cards from Auntie Erica and from the Trolliloes Flock (of sheep) at Sunnyside, Cowbeech, and chocolate doggie treats, for when I can digest them (so I'm told).

"Auntie Rosario" only needs to see me after Christmas for a final checkup. Then the insurance company gets the bill.