The plan is to try and get back to work on Monday. This has raised a few eye-brows, and understandably so, but since I can pull the plug on the attempt any time I want and beat a hasty retreat I think it's worth taking a chance. When I commit myself to just getting on with ordinary life and ignoring the fact I feel like I'm ninety years old, things work themselves out. This afternoon, for example, Noi and I took ourselves off to one of the big shopping malls and it was pretty much business as usual, except for the fact I struggled to just stand around outside one shop for a quarter of an hour as the Missus did her thing inside. But that in itself was a bit of a discovery. It hadn't occurred to me that I was a good deal more comfortable being on the move than standing still.
One peculiar thing about all this is that at one point, just before I left the ICU, one of the doctors remarked that I would be left with some deterioration of the brain. Not sure exactly why he thought this, and no one else since that time has developed the idea further, but even as he said it I felt generally fully recovered mentally and haven't noticed any obvious slowing down since. I think part of me is keen to see if I can still cut it at work, such that Monday seems both practical and sensible - to me, at least.
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