what a pear

She’s lying on the sofa moaning.  I’m lying on the other sofa moaning.  

her; “can you reach the remote control?”
me; “no”.
her; “what are we going to do then?”
me; “talk to each other?”

We each reach for our respective social media devices.

Wednesday was a good day for me.  Most of it anyway.  I managed the half mile or so uphill walk to the tree for my monthly tree blip without mishap.  In the afternoon, I mowed the lawn - big mistake.  The first arrhythmia in four days kicks in.

Anniemay’s most recent bike ride was not without mishap.  She now knows that disc brakes are far more powerful than rim brakes.  She and her new, shiny, lovely road bike parted company when attempting to avoid a hesitant car driver at a road junction.  This could have been really nasty, and I am mightily relieved to find, when she limps into the garage, that the bike is undamaged. 

I turn to Anniemay.  She’s holding her side.  When she realised that the stopping power of the brakes was likely to throw her over the handlebars, she somehow contrived to fall off sideways.  Quite a feat.

From the symptoms - sharp stabbing pain in left side - it seems mostly likely that she’s cracked a rib.  Pain killers help as does her Yoga class; “but it hurts when I go to spin”.  I’m tempted to say don’t go to spin then.  But I’ve seen that look before.  It’ll take about six weeks to heal.  She’s going to have to be patient.

I get an email from the electrophysiologist who carried out the ablation.  He’s reluctant to increase my medication without further tests.  Added to which, he tells me he’s now left the UK, but has passed my case on to a colleague.  He offers to intervene if I have further problems.  I hope he’s not a permanent loss to the NHS - he’s a good man.  In the meantime, I too am going to have to be patient.

Anniemay gets an email from MK Theatre; “War Horse is on in September.” Wow. She phones for tickets. It takes a while but she gets through.  There’s a bit of a conversation and then she puts her hand over the phone; “How optimistic are you feeling?”  What do they want to know - our views on the US presidential election?  Brexit?  North Korea?  What happened to simply handing over the credit card number?   “It’s September 2018”.  

She gets four tickets;  “Good job I didn’t have to book drinks and nibbles for the interval - we might not have any teeth by then, ha, ha, ha  - Ouch.”