This morning, as I was pottering about in our room, I heard a doctor review our case with her students. She gave a nice neat summary and finished up by telling them that her drip had been disconnected earlier this morning, and that Little Fish would need to be monitored for 24 hours and then discharged if no change.
Aha, I thought, and made plans to pick Mog up super quickly from the hospice.
Twenty minutes later a different doctor walked in, and told us we were free to go home. So we bundled up our stuff and did just that, before the first doctor came back! There are a few tests whose results are not back yet, but the hospital will phone if they show anything worrying. Current thought is most likely some kind of non-specific tummy bug.
And now we are home, all three of us together again. Or as together as a family get, when I'm here on the computer, Little Fish is in the kitchen with "My Likkle Puter"*, and Mog in the corridor listening to her beloved Norah Jones. She'd be in her bedroom except that we've had another delivery of feed supplies, and there are boxes piled floor to ceiling. Another job before bedtime.
And life is back to normal, or as normal as it gets around here. The garage lock has rusted, so supplies are piling up around the house as I can't get into the garage either to store them or to check what supplies are already out there. Little Fish has spilt a bottle of cranberry juice, Mog has produced some seriously foul smells and is laughing to herself about the fact, the cat has licked the gravy off his meat and left the rest, and I, I have blown up the kettle.
It's good to be home...
*known to the rest of the world as a portable DVD player