It was an early day yesterday for my wife, Sigrid. I was able to rise and shine,or as close as I ever get to the latter, in the oh-dark-thirty part of the morning and get that elliptical trainer gizmo subdued (well, somebody has to do it and I didn't see you offering) and then instead of off to work, heading for the William W. Backus Hospital (or "Willie" as I like to call it when I don't think it can hear me) and same day surgery to repair a torn tendon in her left elbow.
We were at the hospital by a 0600 (6 AM for my fellow Americans) showtime and by 0728 (do the math yourself, My American Cousin (sorry Abe)), Sigrid was being wheeled into the operating room. Thanks to the two Jens, Lisa, Stephanie, Christina, Bob and Dr. S, in a little more than an hour she was in recovery with Crystal and by shortly after ten I had her here, home, again.
After a nap to help make up the sleep deficit for the early start to her day, and a result of some of the pain-killing medication she was given before surgery, Sigrid was nearly her old self by three in the afternoon, telling me what to do like she hadn't had surgery at all. Of course, as I've told her a hundred million kajillion times this is what she gets for poking me in the ribs with her elbow for the last 35 years. I'm hoping for the next three and half decades she remembers to use the other elbow. Know what I mean?