postscript on patience

I became the able-bodied member (laugh with me) of this household this evening, when Hubby wrenched his knee getting on the commuter train to come home from the office where he is currently working part-time.  I had to go pick him up curbside and drive him into the garage to get his car; since it's his left knee he was able to drive home.  Stairs are not in the picture, so he will sleep on the couch, and going to Lynden on Thursday will definitely not include tramping around the Vancouver Zoo, if we are still able to go.  We really want to go.

It's not as desperate as when we had a hospital bed in the living room, when he broke his right leg in five places, in Utah, while I was here recovering from the first back surgery and having a plate of dinner brought in each evening by the kind sisters of the Relief Society.  A car, five kids to get home with family help, and two surgeries and a wheelchair for him on an airplane--which I couldn't drive to meet--beats this little hiccup, and we survived that.  But the deal is supposed to be that one of us is functional at any given time, isn't it?  I'm sure that was listed in my warranty, somewhere, where did I put that?  Ah, well, such is life.

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