Home Again

It really seems there’s no tiredness like hospital tiredness. I haven’t felt this tired since the long vigil at my mother’s bedside. Having an increasingly bad cold didn’t help, and I felt like Typhoid Mary in there, furtively blowing my nose and expecting to be booted out by an irate nursing staff at any minute.

Actually, it was Brother In Law who made the nursing staff irate, by sneaking onto an elevator and going downstairs to smoke. But then, he is a professional smoker.

How’s this for weird? You can smoke on a sort of balcony on the second floor of the hospital, but not on the sidewalk in front of it. My sister had a much-needed smoke on the sidewalk and got shooed away by an irate and officious valet parker. Yes, the hospital had valet parking!

They also had a visit from an SPCA therapy dog, which was the high point of BIL’s stay there. He and my sister missed their canine princess terribly, and petting the temp dog was just the thing to soothe BIL’s ruffled spirits. The therapy dog was an adorable white Skye terrier named Angus, who gave as good as he got when it came to attention and affection.

BIL’s release was almost as fast as his admittance. He called to say he got his walking papers, so we rushed out to get him some button-up shirts, t-shirts being temporarily out of the question, and to the hospital, with a quick stop at Trader Joe’s so neither of us would have to make dinner that night.

When we arrived, BIL was sitting up in a chair with his huge foam collar on, ready and eager to go. We carefully stowed our precious cargo in the passenger seat and after hugs and kisses, I saw them off in our time-honored family way, watching until the car is out of sight, accompanies by blown kisses and waves.

They got home safe and sound despite the treacherous curvy roads and hills, and he’s on the long road to recovery. Happily, the only pain he has now is from the actual surgery, so that’s a good sign.

Thanks again to everyone for all your concern and caring. It means so much!