h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

­Journal 2012 Oct 11

Reading benjaminepmoore's series “I couldn't care less”, brought to mind – again – my feelings of awe and respect for those who spend much of their lives caring for others. It also brought to mind – again - recognition that I am just not that sort of man.

No. Not that sort. Until, nearly three weeks ago...

Ms Stress, my wife, was out with a friend, T, for a bit of shopping, a coffee or two and of course a bit of a yatter. Come five o'clock and I'm thinking “Oh well, they do chattalot”. At six, I'm beginning to wonder. Six thirty, I'm thinking “Best phone the police”, when an incoming 'phone call “This is T's son...”.

Driving to the hospital in Christchurch (some 40km, 25m), desperately trying not to rush, getting lucky by easily finding a parking space, keeping calm and carrying on to be directed to the cardiothoracic ward and there she was. Doctor delving into her head, his tweezers seemingly halfway into the cut... sewing her up, four sutures and the fifth not holding so the superglue will have to do.

That was Friday evening. Drip tubes, drains, what have you on the stand which she pulled around with her like Mr Magoo from, I think it was the Sunday. I took her home on the Tuesday evening. Four broken ribs and 'some bruising'.

So I'm a carer now, with three week's experience.

I've surprised myself. I'm not as bad at it as expected... but then again, with luck, it's for only a few months and a (so far) quickly reducing workload, as she is determined not to sulk.

The experience has reinforced that awe and respect.