Mrs The Millbrooker has braved the inner workings of Derriford Hospital this week, which goes some way to explaining the dearth of postings on the blog: I've been busy doing husbandly things which have mostly involved sitting on buses between here and the northern scrublands of Plymouth on visiting duties and carrying bags around.
Without going into loads of details, Mrs The Millbrooker needed some repair work doing; normal maintenance, if you like. Nonetheless any operation carries some level of risk, and being a dreadful old worry-pots I was all at sixes-and-sevens until the all clear was sounded.
She went into surgery on Thursday, after we'd spent an interminable time hanging around in Fal Ward waiting to be called. We waved cheerio in the corridor, and Mrs The Millbrooker was led into the depths of the building to be knocked out and fiddled about with.
By the time the hugely long bus ride home (can you believe over an hour and half?) was over, Lizzie had already had a text from the faintly woozy and post-operative Mrs saying she was back on the ward and feeling pretty good. Cue sighs of relief all around.
Very pleasingly, she was allowed back home on the Friday and Shazzerooneypoos did us the huge favour of acting as taxi driver, offering door-to-door service with a smile. Thank you, Auntie Sharon.
Mrs The Millbrooker is still a bit post-anaesthetic but is doing well; we're looking forward to film club tonight (although she might not be imbibing very much). It was a delight to come home to a bunch of freshly picked and heavily scented lily of the valley from our lovely neighbour, Gay.
Thanks to everyone who's sent their wishes and offers of help, it's good to know you're there.