It’s been about 22 hours since Carl had his surgery, and already he’s back at work. Seriously. Well, actually he’s home, sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter with our newly repaired laptop, connected via Internet to his remote desktop at Rockwell, and he’s plugging away. He was supposed to go to Wichita KS on Monday to do a presentation at Cessna, but the doctor said, “No, you have to come see me that day.” I was relieved. I thought Monday was waaaaay to soon for Carl to travel that far.
And speaking of Carl’s doctor, Dr. Wilkinson (yes, as in Wilkinson sword – maybe that’s why he’s a surgeon) its a good thing that first impressions don’t necessarily belie the truth. Pastor Bill and I were sitting with Carl in pre-op yesterday, and we heard CLOMP-CLOMP-CLOMP coming down the hall. The first thing I saw was a pair of black Oxford shoes, then the doc came in. My immediate reaction was “Good grief, he looks like an undertaker!” If the theme song from Alfred Hitchcock had started playing, it would have been totally appropriate. The doctor was very tall and thin, had a 1970’s haircut (complete with sideburns) and was wearing a three piece suit. However, the doctor not only had a better than average bedside manner, he was downright funny. He had a way of putting you at ease (at least temporarily) and his ability to banter with the patient was perfect. I guess you could say Dr. Wilkinson has a rapier wit. (bu-da-bump) But he did a good job patching Carl up. Maybe too good. Now I can’t keep Carl from working. I should have had the doc remove Carl’s stubborn gland (wherever that is).
So, anyway. I feel comfortable enough now to leave Carl with Hannah for a while so I can go get some groceries. I mean, he’s been up, at work, and is now slurping down a Mountain Dew. So I’m not worried about him. Much. Well, maybe a little.
I think I’d better buy him some chocolate…….