On being in hospital, from the horse's mouth

Actually, from the typing fingers of the kid.

We visited his paediatrician today, who read out the notes from our last visit 2 months ago which said, 'good progress, no need to see again for 12 months unless unexpected complications'. Hah to that. Otherwise he was no earthly use, except to arrange follow up tests and look mildly chagrined and chuckle at the kid's jokes.

We have cancelled our Vietnam tickets. The husband will still go, but the self and the offspring will not. I can't face this sort of thing there right now. And also I don't think any medical insurer in the land would be putting up their hand to insure us. ('Pick me, pick me - I love throwing shareholder's money away' I hear them shout, as they shove and push each other like movie bridesmaid's at the throwing of the bouquet. I didn't throw my bouquet, because I liked it and wanted to keep it, which made no sense at all because I was leaving for Vietnam the next day, and even gum leaves and flannel flowers don't survive for three weeks on their own once cut and bouqet-ed).

This morning I did the most boring work ever, including the time I stuffed 10,000 envelopes and the beer machine job where I put rows of plastic cups under a beer tap and pushed a button which filled four plastic cups full of a brand of beer I would never, ever drink. I am glad my work is not usually like that, because I would have to creep under my desk in the restful dark for a while, and that is obviously a bit odd and unhelpful for career prospects.