Post-op care, Doombreed style

No blog yesterday because I was looking after Mrs Doombreed, who had surgery on her arm.

It was less fun for her than it was for me, and it was pretty much no fun for me. We did have some darkly funny moments because Mrs Doombreed was dosed up with a drug called "versed" (pronounced ver-said) which works by temporarily blocking the mind's ability to create new memories. The upshot of this is that when you talk to someone, you can't remember the conversation. So Mrs Doombreed asked me the same series of questions at least five times in a row, because she couldn't remember the answers.

Anyway, I'm keeping track of Mrs Doombreed's meds, making sure she sticks with doctor's orders, making dinner, fetching and carrying, and basically looking after She Who Is The Centre Of My Universe.

Pretty much everything I signed on for when we got married. Doing the husbandly duty. Being a man. Stepping up to the plate. Doing what any good spouse would.

Okay, yeah, so I'm enjoying looking after The Most Wonderful Woman In The World. So what?

I also want to thank Mrs Doombreed's mother. Mrs Doombreed's mother is the remedy to all the comedic mother-in-law jokes. She's a great person. She drove us over to the surgery centre, stayed with me whilst Mrs Doombreed is in surgery, even bought me dinner (Arby's chicken salad wraps are incredible).

Finally, of course, thanks to the doctor who performed the surgery, and all the staff who gave her such good care, before, during, and after.

The operation was minor and routine, but any time general anesthetic is used, it carries with it a risk that the patient might not come out.

Still, she came through with flying colors, and now a combination of the pain meds and lingering after effects of the anesthetic have sent her off for an afternoon nap, allowing me to indulge in a rare and forbidden pleasure.

I'm watching Zulu.