George had a hospital check up today. Everything’s good three weeks on from his operation. He’s healing well and they don’t want to see him for another four or five months. St Thomas' has been great, but I'm glad not to have to go there again soon - not to have to see the sick children and worried parents - or pass the fat smokers on drips who hover at the entrance in the rain.
He now weighs 4.96kg
They’ve also told us to reduce his medication over the next week and take him off it completely next week.
Great news although George himself doesn’t seem to be reacting brilliantly. He kept Lisa up last night and has cried for much of the day. It’s mainly due to having this chesty cough I think- he sounds like he smokes 40 a day at the moment.
Still we’ve been told it’s nothing to worry about. The up-side of constantly having to go to the hospital is that we’ve always known that he’s being thouroughly checked and if there’s anything wrong, someone will spot it.
How we’ll cope when there’s nobody there to assuage our parental neuroses I don’t know.
Last night was pancake day and in another ritual we seem to have inherrited from Sam, we had a few people over (Russ, Pietro, Sam, Billy, Jane and Nathan) for pancakes. We asked everyone to bring a filling and made piles of pancakes (I tried making one, but it was a disaster).
The result was fillings ranging from lentil dahl to blue cheese and spinach. Billy bought a selection of sweets along, so we had fillings made from melted fruit salad sweets, fake chewy bananas and other sundry confectionaries – surprisingly nice.
Anyway, a few bottles of wine were followed by a selection of after dinner drinks (port, lemoncello, or crème-de-menthe – depending on how sophisticated you were feeling)…