Mr FD is now one day post op with his knee surgery. He has been up and walking. When I left him the first night he was pumped full of morphine and flirting with all the nurses. Tonight, he is on endone topped up by panadol, and still flirting. Obviously he can’t see what he looks like lying in his bed, tee shirt and pantless last night, with shorts tonight; his little pressure booties pumping away at his feet – the flirting is pointless.
That aside, the doctor reported that Mr FD’s knee was totally worn away, so it was just as well we pushed to have the surgery sooner rather than the later another surgeon kept arguing. Always pays to take charge and get a second opinion. I think the other surgeon was tying to string out his money making possibilities.
Now, to more important matters – me.
I am exhausted. I am working my usual day, I rush to the hospital to sit with Mr FD, then I drive the 40 minutes home in the dark. Dinner, a shower and I fall into bed to repeat the performance the next day. If Mr FD had a spare bed in his room I might have been tempted to bed down beside him, tonight. I never thought I would say this, but, I hope he comes home sooner rather than later. I can’t hack the pace!
Tomorrow, I commence the annual weeding of the collection during which I cull the oldies to make way for the new books. Discarding the books no longer distresses me.
At the conference last week, I attended one workshop where we had to endure the sight of the crafter ripping up books to use as craft supplies. The cries of pain from many of my librarian colleagues were honest and heartfelt. We should have had a therapy session to ease us into it – perhaps quietly sitting in a room and teaching pages from books first.
I need sleep… and perhaps a different life. Tonight though, I will settle for just some rest.