Oh it all makes work for the working man to do
We are going to Watford General twice a week at the moment. Not for Quentin, but for physiotherapy on my shoulder, which is taking an age to mend. I have to attempt Nazi-style salutes 3 times a day as exercise (amongst other things) and am desperate to do a good Hitler impersonation - only when I can get my hand above waist height for more than a minute, will I be able to drive again.
Fortunately Quent is being very undemanding on the health front. I forgot to tell you the end of the "blood in urine" episode. The Prof tested his urine and suddenly all the blood had gone away. Which means that Frances (my Doctor sister) was right - it had been a small infection and the blood was just taking a while to disappear. Either that or Prof can just look at your wee and make it behave.
We thought Quent had a meeting today about returning to work, but it was cancelled so we're awaiting another one.
Life at home continues along a "building site" theme. We have finally moved out of Oakley's bedroom, which is a great treat. Small things, like being able to turn the light on and not stepping on 4 pieces of lego before getting into bed are almost as exciting as the extra privacy.
Don't be fooled - we are still not back in the kitchen. Instead, most activity seems to be in the ensuite at the moment. The ensuite is above the dining room, so its floor has to be done before the dining room ceiling. The dining room has to be done before we can move back into the kitchen. There's a hole in my bucket.
Oakley's favourite song at the moment is another golden oldie - "When the gasman cometh" by Flanders and Swann. It's terrible having old parents. Quent had played it to him when he had to learn to spell the days of the week and it seems to have stuck. Strangely I seem to have a sense of humour failure with anything to do with gasmen, electricians, decorators etc these days and find it hard giggling with the boys when they play it for the umpteenth time.
Now, play me a funny song about a physiotherapist and I might just raise a smile.
Fortunately Quent is being very undemanding on the health front. I forgot to tell you the end of the "blood in urine" episode. The Prof tested his urine and suddenly all the blood had gone away. Which means that Frances (my Doctor sister) was right - it had been a small infection and the blood was just taking a while to disappear. Either that or Prof can just look at your wee and make it behave.
We thought Quent had a meeting today about returning to work, but it was cancelled so we're awaiting another one.
Life at home continues along a "building site" theme. We have finally moved out of Oakley's bedroom, which is a great treat. Small things, like being able to turn the light on and not stepping on 4 pieces of lego before getting into bed are almost as exciting as the extra privacy.
Don't be fooled - we are still not back in the kitchen. Instead, most activity seems to be in the ensuite at the moment. The ensuite is above the dining room, so its floor has to be done before the dining room ceiling. The dining room has to be done before we can move back into the kitchen. There's a hole in my bucket.
Oakley's favourite song at the moment is another golden oldie - "When the gasman cometh" by Flanders and Swann. It's terrible having old parents. Quent had played it to him when he had to learn to spell the days of the week and it seems to have stuck. Strangely I seem to have a sense of humour failure with anything to do with gasmen, electricians, decorators etc these days and find it hard giggling with the boys when they play it for the umpteenth time.
Now, play me a funny song about a physiotherapist and I might just raise a smile.
posted by Helen at 3/18/2010 10:31:00 pm
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