The week was passed with visits from lovely family and friends. Drops being put in my eye four times a day from the lovely nurses at Moorfields. I was scared every time the patch came off, I didn’t want to look and would ask the nurses if it looked disgusting? “No it looks good” they would reply as only medical staff can. I’m sure if I asked any of my friends to have a look I would have had a more honest response. I actually looked forward to the dressing changes and drops, it felt soothing.

So I would wonder around my room with a little machine that I was told to use to check I was still radioactive and the disc hadn’t fallen out. Fallen out? A piece of metal sewn to my eye the size of a two pence piece could fall out without me knowing? I think not.

I had noticed that when the patch came off I could see normally. I hadn’t noticed any double vision. This was a good thing. So naturally I also started to think I wouldn’t go blind in that eye either. I would soon learn that that was far too optimistic.

During a visit from a good friend we started discussing how to tell other people. Mutual friends were starting to question why I wasn’t around, not returning calls etc and she was finding it difficult to fend off questions and lie for me.  I hadn’t realised the pressure I had put on others to ‘keep it quiet.’ My main reason for this had been because I didn’t want the children to find out, but now they knew I was in hospital, although not the real reason, I felt I should tell people. I had managed to speak to the majority of family and close friends and I decided to let everyone else know by Facebook. I couldn’t call everyone. My Facebook setting is private. I don’t have hundreds of friends. Everyone on my list is someone I like and care for, so it seemed the easiest option. I hastily sent two messages to two very dear friends I hadn’t spoken to and then posted my horrible news.

It was done. I felt relieved. I received lovely messages from people, this meant so much to me and made me smile. Thank you to you all.

I then had a perfectly timed visit from the anaesthetist to let me know that following removal of the radioactive plaque on Thursday evening, I could go home. It might be quiet late and I might prefer to stay another night. She hadn’t even finished speaking as I was chucking all my belongings in my bag. There was no stopping me now. I wanted to go home and see my children.