God really does have a sense of humor. We are book ending our 5+ year stay in Brazil with orthopedic surgeries. Talk about pushing the envelope. Or socket, as the case may be. Mr. Understanding and I usually make decisions jointly; this one was voluntary and we only have ourselves to blame for the timing. However, when the orthopedic surgeon told my beloved that his shoulder tendon could snap at any moment, we said PROCEED. No matter that we are leaving in a week, that Mr. U gets to look forward to another 36 hours of flying, his arm in a sling.
The hospital where our respective surgeries were performed has improved greatly in 5 years. Five years ago there was no food and Mr. Understanding spent a night on an outside bench while I screamed inside begging for more morphine. I could have stayed with Mr. U in the same hospital tonight as they have these little couches which fold out into the semblance of a bed. But what to do with my girls in the hotel? (Buddy was dropped off for his 5th grade trip this morning). Packing and loading recommences tomorrow at 9 a.m. after the school run. Mr. U is a champion sleeper, after all, and a man, which assuages my guilt just a bit. I’ve spent plenty of nights alone in a hospital, after all. A driver is taking him back to the hotel because this fraud of a general just can’t figure out how to be in two places at once.
Tonight I am saying a prayer that my man sleeps well and that the little new screw in his shoulder doesn’t set off the alarms next week at the airport. That’s a parting gift we don’t need.