The Rascally Trio were “desperate” to see me.
That’s why they were pounding at their auntie’s door
at nine o’clock in the morning and taking the stairs two at a time to reach my bedroom where I was enjoying a bowl of muesli and my second cup of coffee of the morning. After hugs and kisses (“Please, please, please be careful of Nanni’s
knee,” their mother kept imploring them) they took a cursory look at said knee. I think they are all a little disappointed, after I had shown them vivid pictures on the Internet, that the rather impressive knee replacement is covered up and can’t
be seen in all its metallic glory. I imagine what a sight to behold I would be, were I to be visibly bionic, what with shoulder, hip and now knee.
almost immediately turned their attention to other excitements; these included searching for the cats, Willow and Trixie, who had made a strategic escape as soon as they saw the Trio approaching; and the robot vacuum cleaner which dutifully sets itself off
at a particular time every morning and roams about downstairs doing what robot vacuum cleaners do best.
“So who’s the main attraction here?”
I demanded, trying to bring their attention back to me. Faris didn’t have to give the matter a moment’s thought: “The Hoover!” he declared.
all is said and done - I know my place…
After three nights in hospital, I have been ensconced in love at the Youngest of the Darling Daughters house for
rest and recuperation. Pure indulgence! I sleep in her bedroom which she has nobly given up to make it easier for me to totter to the bathroom in the middle of the night and every morning we sit together in bed, caressing our first drinks of the day and discussing
the day ahead. It is one of my favourite times of the day as we consider Important Matters such as how many pain killers I might need, what clothes I should wear (she has even loaned me a couple of dresses as I packed all the wrong things for my “holiday”)
and my progress in getting myself in and out of bed. She is the very best of nurses, the most compassionate of carers, the most entertaining of companions.
spent lovely mornings in the back garden, under the shade of a giant parasol, reading, chatting, enjoying the sunshine. We took a trip to the local park to meet up with the Trio, with Son in Law (Dunk’em Dave) giving me a thrill ride in the spare wheelchair
we’d managed to bring with us. I hadn’t realised just how fast wheelchair travel seems to the person being pushed, with every bump in the pathway a major hazard. I will be far more sympathetic to Mr B in future.
We watched the final episodes of Neighbours, wondering at how much people had aged over the last thirty years since the Aussie soap was our guilty lunchtime pleasure and I binge-watched the second
series of Bridgerton. We completed not one, but two jigsaw puzzles and it was noticeable the way my brain slowly cleared over the days so that I could concentrate on fixing puzzle pieces in place. On occasions my grandson Jack took charge of me, introducing
me to his own favourite Netflix programmes in the interests of hauling me up to date. It’s so long since we’ve spent so much time together, this eldest grandson and I - and every moment was precious. Despite the fact that he grows more like his
father every day, the two of them always threatening to place hurdles in my way to make my painful progress round the house more “interesting.” We take photos and videos to mark my progress; I’m not sure how fascinating anyone other than
my immediate family will find pictures of my truly spectacular bruising, my painful toddles round the house, and my adventures climbing up and down the stairs.
So yesterday my convalescence came to an end. My daughter packed me into her car, along with two suitcases, my armchair and bathroom perching chair from home, and an accumulation of paperwork, explanatory leaflets and other possibly important information
given me on my discharge from hospital. She was to stay overnight to settle me in.
Mr B was oh, so pleased to see me back home after what must have been a long,
long two weeks for him while I was being indulged elsewhere. Everyone keeps remarking that I look a lot younger as a result of my rest and relaxation. Perhaps I should have another knee operation sometime in order to cut another ten years off my age? Or, possibly,
Today Mr B keeps glancing over at me to make sure I’m still sitting here, in my familiar armchair, same as ever.
I know my place.