I'm at the hospital. Not for me, but I'm waiting for my wife to be discharged from gallbladder surgery. It's just a day surgery, and I was supposed to wait at home for them to call and let me know that she was ready, but I got impatient. Well, that's not entirely true; I got a call, and when I tried to pull the phone off of my belt, it slipped and the battery pack fell off. In a panic, I ran upstairs to the other extension, but missed the call. I got the number that called, but it wouldn't connect to anyone (what I reached sounded like dialing. Odd...) So I called the hospital, and the person I spoke to didn't think that the phone number was theirs. That wasn't a certain enough answer for me, so I packed up a few things (my netbook, Ipod, and three books) and came down.
She's not ready. Fortunately, Chickerdoodles is with Gramma, so I don't have to co-ordinate her and a thoroughly anesthetized wife.
That's how far I got before the volunteer told me that she was ready. By “ready”, they meant awake but waiting for the doctor to officially discharge her. While the nurses and volunteers at our local hospital were as delightful and efficient as always, the doctors are stretched too thin, so waiting for them to come and sign-off can be like waiting for a long weekend on Thursday. They're doing their best, but there seriously needs to be something done about the availability of doctors in Ontario. But I digress.
Andrea is recovering well. I thought that she'd be a mess, but she bounced back like the trooper she is. Of course, with four small incisions in her abdomen, there will be no lifting, including said Chickerdoodles. Fortunately, I was able to book the week off, so I can do the lifting, and the nursing. Also fortunately, she is twenty months old, so I only have to nurse my wife. Try and shake that visual – you're welcome. Hopefully I can get some other things done with my week off, but honestly, my standards are set pretty low.