I woke up again, which was good

I can't quite remember the order of events after the surgery, but I've been told that I was initially put in the High Dependency Unit, where Helen and my Mum first saw me after the operation.

I have a vague recollection that I was in a different room than any I had previously been in at the hospital, and I had the feeling I was in the centre of a much smaller space.

Helen has since told me that when she saw me, not long after the surgery itself, I was barely awake. I had a big old bandage around my head, and my face had already started to swell up quite dramatically.

Luckily, Helen's always had a thing for Sloth from The Goonies.

HEY YOU GUYS!

Although the 48 hours starting from the morning of my surgery remain a bit of a blur, I do have a clear image of seeing Helen for the first time.

I remember trying to speak to her, specifically to tell her I was OK and to check that she was too, but I had no energy to talk. Plus, they'd cut through one of the muscles that move my jaw, so talking would continue to be a pain for a while.

About a week after the operation, I overheard Helen telling one of our friends what I'd been like at this stage. Apparently I'd tried to speak to her but couldn't really get any words out to her - so resorted to monkey-style sign language.

I'm quite proud of myself that I managed to get my point across via sign language, as I've been banging on about learning it for ages. Point to eye, point to heart, point to Helen.

I really did feel better as soon as I'd seen her.

For the next day and a bit, I did what I do best, sleep like a motherfucker.