Home Alone

I'm used to my wife being indestructible.
Yesterday she was pretty good but she woke up this morning bloated to hell again. Off we went to the Doctor who announced that she is suffering from wind, may have a 'tummy bug' or may be constipated and suggested she keeps taking paracetemol. As usual, there was no suggestion that the problem might have something to do with the surgery she has undergone.
She spent the afternoon in bed, as miserable as sin.
At 8pm she was in floods of tears and said she couldn't stand the pain any longer.
Eventually we got through to the Doctor's stand in night service. They told us to drive to a nearby clinic that doesn't exist according to the NHS Direct site.
The doctor who examined her said he wouldn't let her go home and booked her into the local NHS hospital and Mrs B is now miserable as sin in a bed there.
"Oh no, it has absolutely nothing to do with the recent surgery," they assured us.
As Mrs B said to them, "It seems one hell of a coincidence."
At 2am I staggered home alone, miserable as sin.