It’s been another of those weeks here, with Pa Stitches-in-Law in hospital since Sunday, having suffered his second Grand Mal seizure in 3 weeks.  They’re not taking any chances this time and have carried out a scan to rule out a brain bleed.  Thankfully this is clear.  

Whilst the NHS is a wonderful thing, in reality it can be so frustrating.  It took them 4 days to get him in for the scan (which given his medical history could have been very dangerous) and have kept him in for the weekend because although the Neuro consultant was in the building on Friday, the necessary paperwork hadn’t been raised.  WTF!  They now won’t see him until Monday at the least.  
I have visions of him turning up on our doorstep in his pajamas, demanding cake and payment of the taxi.  He is, as you can imagine, bored beyond words.
Our lives seem dogged by bureaucrats and paperwork at the moment.  But at least we’ll get to the bottom of the recurrence of the seizures.
But what’s this got to do with love.  Well, today we’ve been out and about watching the annual madness that is Valentine’s Day.  Hurried last minute purchases of overpriced and wilted red roses.  Racks of tacky and tasteless cards with which you can tell the object of your desire how much you love them.
I’m typing this as Mr Stitches cooks venison meatballs in tomato sauce for supper.  He’s been at it a while and I’m thanking the lord for a dishwasher.  But how much more loved am I that even though we’re all preoccupied with PSIL’s health and our impending Panel date, that man loves me enough to spend time and energy so I can sit and drink tea, read my favourite blogs and reflect on just how damned lucky I am.
Wherever you are, I hope you are loved as much as I, and those you love are hale and hearty.
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