Fret not - this long tale is almost over.
To recap, I was camping out in a local British military installation having escaped Stalag 19 on Friday morning. Painkilling drugs had been prescribed and picked up and a very nice man in the office had offered to do my thrombosis injection. Of course, he waited until after to point out the last time he did an injection it was on an orange! (standard practice!).
I had spent most of the day on the phone to my office, home and the insurance company and everything was falling into place, but by 3.30 I still didn't have my Fit to Fly certificate. The hospital promised to fax it through and H and I were haunting the fax machine. No joy. So at 4.30 H jumped in his car and whooshed off to the hospital to pick it up personally. Of course, as soon as he left it came through. But he got the original anyway, good thing too as the fax version was unreadable.
The insurance people confirmed my transport to the airport, my flight and my UK transport. By this time all the office staff were wishing me well and peeling off for home, and I was still there.
At 5.30 an ambulance arrived to whisk me off to Munich airport. I kissed the last man in the office goodbye (he who had volunteered to puncture me!) and was loaded up for the trip. Needless to say, being nicely wrapped up on a stretcher, I slept most of the way there!
Wheelchairs are fun! The drivers dropped me at the airport, found me a wheelchair and took me through to departures. I had a little time before the flight so bought some booze Aginoth had asked for and went for a little ride in my wheelchair!
The flight was Business Class on British Airways. As an invalid, I went on first and the stewardesses were lovely. They offered me extra pillows and one in particular, 'Sam', kept a close eye on me. Business Class was lush - shame I wasn't really in a frame of mind to enjoy it! Room to move (vital with a strained back!), proper china crockery, metal cutlery, fabric napkins, and - profiteroles!
'Would you like a meal?'
'Is is salmon? No thank you.'
'Would you just like the profiteroles?'
[dribbles gently] 'yes please' :-)
One bumpy landing later (apparently the co-pilot was new!), and I was whisked through Heathrow in a wheelchair, my suitcase came out first and we were off to the chauffeured car.
Oh the joy of getting home.........the long deep hug with MB, the strokes and sandpaper kisses of my darling kitties, clean pjs and my own bed. And waiting for me, my Crazies, my friends, my colleagues and - MY BLOG!!
Nothing was better than the knowledge that no matter how poorly I felt, I was HOME!!