Hip hip hooray! She's back and ready for hip hop

That's such a relief: Tramadol tablets (Ultram)
       Wikipedia

My wife is back home after the emergency hip operation following the excellent treatment she received at Hinchingbrooke Hospital. She is loaded up with pain-killers such as Tramadol and good old Paracetamol, has to inject herself each day with Clexane to prevent clotting, and takes Adcal (calcium and vitamin D) tablets, plus a weekly dose of Alendronic Acid to counter the effects of osteoporosis. Then there's her daily dose of Levothyroxine [thyroid trouble may have resulted in weakening of her bones] and you can see why she almost rattles as she hauls herself slowly - and painfully - to the toilet on her newly-acquired crutches. I suppose it's a new take on hip hop.
The village GP was immediately on the case when he learned of the accident and has set up support visits, and he even dropped in at ours to make sure everything was OK. A no-nonsense district nurse has already been in ["coffee, strong, three sugars please"] to change the dressing on the wound and, as is the case with the modern NHS, she had to fill in mountains of paperwork.

My wife is still sleeping [??] downstairs on a large sofa because the stairs are a little too much to tackle at the moment and she becomes frustrated at her helplessness.

But she is delighted that her operation scar will be very small and neat. The skin is held together by 12 clips after three cannulated screws were inserted into her broken hip by adept surgeon Mr Thornton-Bott. He certainly eased many of my wife's fears before and after the operation, and she has nothing but good things to say about the consultant and the caring hospital staff.
She's gets a little bored, because reading, sitting with the laptop [iPad broken] or watching a TV programme requires a degree of concentration which is difficult to muster when you're in a degree of pain, but things are beginning to improve. Crosswords are now being tackled, meals are being eaten and instructions about general housekeeping are being issued - in a nice way, of course.
She also looks forward to the late morning calls from her sister who lives in Sydney [they should be in the Guinness Book of Records for longest, long-distance calls] and the phone chats with her good friend from Carlow in Ireland. They met while training to be nurses three decades ago and remain the best of pals. Then there's the odd call from other friends and relatives to keep her occupied, while our immediate neighbour has also been very kind.
Mum-in-law was completely confused and befuddled by the whole episode, and somewhat distressed about Jane's situation, and she happily returned to the care home for a few weeks while Jane gets back on her feet [no pun intended, but we need a bit of a break].

"I'm not here forever, am I?" she asked when I dropped her off. 

"It's just a short holiday, isn't it?"

I gave her plenty of reassurances, as did the staff, and she seemed more than happy with the answers, before dishing out kisses to me, a lovely carer and a delighted old chap on crutches.
We have no qualms about leaving mum-n-law there for a short period. Staff at The Firs in Little Downham near Ely are pleasant and seem well trained, and they are certainly very capable and understanding when it comes to dealing with people who suffer from Alzheimer's disease.
All the animals are fine, too, although Sweep is a little puzzled because he can't get too close to my wife for fear of catching her hip or leg, but Hector is so laidback about the the goings on in his house - yes, Hector's House. He's a silly old Hector.
The goats remain playful, the hens are as inquisitive as ever, and the bantams are getting noticeably bigger as they settle in to their new environment.
Must dash. Chores to be done. Off to prepare lunch.
Life's certainly not boring in this part of the Fens...