Recovery

I've been asleep for so long. Every once in awhile the nice US Marine medic (Eddie) comes in to give me orange juice and more of that wonderful painkiller. He's very handsome, but taken since I did ask. He has a wife and two children in Oklahoma City who are homeless from foreclosure on their only home by a very nasty bank (disclosure: The bank in question handles my wealth management fund so we can't exactly dis them). 

I'm "sympa" with Eddie because he's missing not just his toes, but his entire left leg as well. He's fitted with a prosthetic leg that seems to me very natural, although he complained about something called "phantom pain" or itching sensations in the missing limb. I asked him if I would have "phantom itchy toes" and he said I ought to follow-up with my NHS doctor when arriving in London. 

The staff at the hospital has been very generous and they would like to get me up and standing for exercise etc., but each time we go for recess another bomb or rocket goes off. There is the constant noise of a riot outside of our compound. It makes Brixton seem tame. 

But air-lift is on the way. We've consulted the embassy and it looks as if they are still open. There is the possibility of transit out of here and home. 

Luv u,
Viv