Further to my bemoaning my nursing abilities last week, there is a light at the end of Sir’s tunnel, and things are improving.

Suffice it to say, his surgery was abdominal, and shall we put this as delicately as possible – and I will add that I have Sir’s blessing in this – the surgeon rather redecorated and rearranged his innards while he was robotically fiddling about in there for four hours.

Rather like a jigsaw puzzle, Sir’s interiors were put back in pretty much the correct places, but naturally innards don’t like to be fiddled with and they, I must say, have been just a wee bit peevish ever since.

After all, they’ve been nestled happily inside a very nice cavity for many years, the roommates have been respectful and quiet, not throwing mad parties or littering, and the internal neighborhood might even be nominated for an award in Spleen Illustrated, Architectural Digestion, or even better, Good Livers.

Robotic abdominal surgery requires your torso to be pumped up with gas so that the innocent by-standing organs can be pushed back behind the yellow police tape while the injured one can be given the appropriate medical attention, and once this has been achieved the surgeons do their level best to expel the gas through the various perforations they’ve already made, but wouldn’t you know it there’s always a bad egg in the bunch who just wants to hang out and be a nuisance for a while.

This rebel gas finds all sorts of cozy nooks and crannies where it can sit with its feet up on the sofa and slurp beer behind your liver or under a kidney, and it proves to be horribly uncomfortable for several days until your intestines wake up and realize there’s an intruder and force it, at what feels like gun-point, to quit the premises.

Meanwhile, your water-work department has taken a couple of days off and has to rely on the use of temporary staffing to continue operating, and by the time it comes back from vacation, it’s so relaxed it needs some encouragement to get its mind back on its job, knuckle down and achieve greatness like it always did.

Any of you ladies out there will completely understand what I’m telling you. Anyone who has birthed a child knows two things. That dignity flies right out the door, and that you’re likely to spring the odd leak until your muscles get back into shape. For this and other obvious reasons, shall we say, absorbency becomes a key issue in your managing to get through your day with as much grace as possible.

Sir however, sees this as an attack to his manhood and tried valiantly to avoid the issue, until, drenched, he realized that dealing with an out of control firehose (his words, not mine) might require the eating of a small portion of humble pie and a grumbly acceptance of this temporary status quo.

With my love and encouragement, he’s doing his exercises like a good boy, because quite frankly, his life Depends on it …. if you catch my drift.

 

-- Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at anniedearkc@hotmail.com.