“He’s not long down from theatre but he’ll be glad to see you,” said the nurse when I phoned in after lunch.
“I shall be rather glad to see him.”
And I was. Glad, I mean. He was certainly woozy, drifting in and out of sleep as we spoke.
He looked so much better, though. Like a deflated balloon that’s being puffed up once more with good quality air.
I didn’t stay long. Just long enough to get the picture firm in my mind and I stopped in at the ward sister’s office on my way out. He’s to be seen by the doctor in the morning, have the internal ‘stuffing’ removed, checked over, and sent packing. If all goes well.
It will do. I’m more confident now that all will be well than I have been for days.
So tomorrow I shall get up, run a duster round the house, and then wait for the phone to ring. It’s no more than fifteen minutes to the hospital. I shall do my best not to go over the speed limit. Wouldn’t do to pick up a speeding ticket now, would it.
