Going Spare

My Dear Fellows & Dear Princess,

Today Caro and I returned to Wellington from Auckland. Caro did so well travelling, considering just three days earlier, Steph the Surgeon was rummaging around in Caro's stomach.

"Would you like to take home the spare bits?"

Apparently this is a real, actual question that Steph the Surgeon asked Caro. 

"Why on EARTH would you want the spare bits?" I asked.

(I mentally continued this question with the suggestions, "Soup?" and "For the dog bowl?" but then remembered that Caro is still on anti-nausea medicine and held back).

It turns out that some cultures do not consider a person properly buried if there are spare parts knocking around out there somewhere. So these people cannot bin appendixes and tonsils after operations. They have to hold onto these bits until they kark it. So theoretically there are families out there with bits of mum and dad in jars at the back of the pantry until they shuffle off. 

Fortunately, we are not those people. Caro said Steph could keep her spare bits. 

But anyway, I digress. Caro was amazing, she didn't complain at all, and took the flight in her stride. I guess she must still be in pain because I notice that she does rub her tummy from time to time. Still, none of the other passengers noticed.

Yet when I went around rubbing myself after my hernia, people got SO upset. 

SEXISM!

Moving on. The point is we got home safe and sound. We got the big catty welcome from our little guys and I made up a bed for Caro on the couch. I've been trying to take care of her ever since, but it is not easy. She is not someone who likes having people do things for her. She's used to taking care of herself, so my biggest job is going around saying, "PUT THAT DOWN! LEAVE IT! I'LL DO THAT!" and so on.

Still. We are only on day one. Hopefully by the end of the week she'll be pointing at things helplessly and making "I want" noises. 

Maybe not.

S.