Dad is home.

Simple headline, to the point – I’ve just spoken with Dad who has been finally let out of Bournemouth hospital this afternoon. He said to me on Saturday that the rather more walloping meds they’d started him on already seemed to be having an effect, but a chest x-ray this morning apparently confirmed it – he’s improving. Slowly.

He’s tired, of course. Hospital is all at once a long time in bed and a long time without proper sleep. People all around you are off-puttingly sick it seems. Falling over noisily and re-enacting Sean of the dead in the middle of the night with little consideration for others. And, as far as I can tell, the tea trolley visits the ward on an hourly cycle, morning, noon and night.

Still, the significant answer to many people’s prayers appears to be that they’ve properly diagnosed and prescribed, at last. I’m hoping it will give Mum a little mental rest too. But, of course, Dad is home – so maybe we need to pray for the woman all the more.

Will keep you posted.

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