4th Hurdle: Taken with Feet to Spare
Never, but never, bet against an elderly Latvian former WWII refugee.
Oh, yeah.
Halloween day, they transferred her from her bed in the hospital, where they'd taken pity on her (as aided by the lowish cardiac ward census) and not assigned her a new roommate in 48 hours, to the local nursing home that is part of the old fart's complex that also houses her apartment. Prior to her discharge, she was doing a bit better again, with some return of her sparkage.
The evening of her transfer, we all trooped into the nursing home, bearing a box of diabetic ice cream bars, as requested, and two suitcases of "clothes to exercise in" that I'd culled from her closet. The kids in their costumes (a knight with a sword almost as tall as he was and a forest fairy, complete with wand and wings) and the adults in their coats, thinking of how very good that beer awaiting them back home will taste. After much tracking and backtracking (the signs in the nursing home are apparently there to confuse rather than clarify), we finally found her sitting up in bed, cheeks rosy, eyes bright, telling the nurse her life's story. She looked like she did about 10 years ago and I don't think she drew breath for 10 minutes as she rattled on non-stop, relating her day's activities. If I didn't know better, I'd think she'd been dipping into the gin.
I want what she's having.
Well, without all the cutting open of one's chest cavity, of course.
She had a roommate, who was pronounced "very nice", and she's thrilled to be there where she knows so many people. I think she's going to choose to get better. The next day they were going to move her to a private room and start twice daily physical therapy. I know we're not home free, but she's only a week post-op and looking better than she has in ages. She's getting her drive-me-crazy personality back and she's in her element. She even knew her nurse, who goes to her friend's church. Everyone knows everyone in this small town.
Somehow, I think even the meatloaf will be palatable.
Thank you all, again, for all your patience and good wishes and just for being there. There really is nothing like a strong, supportive group of friends. You have helped me more than you will ever know.
And now back to our regularly scheduled blog. There's been too much seriousness, lately, carnivorous squirrels notwithstanding.
Oh, yeah.
Halloween day, they transferred her from her bed in the hospital, where they'd taken pity on her (as aided by the lowish cardiac ward census) and not assigned her a new roommate in 48 hours, to the local nursing home that is part of the old fart's complex that also houses her apartment. Prior to her discharge, she was doing a bit better again, with some return of her sparkage.
The evening of her transfer, we all trooped into the nursing home, bearing a box of diabetic ice cream bars, as requested, and two suitcases of "clothes to exercise in" that I'd culled from her closet. The kids in their costumes (a knight with a sword almost as tall as he was and a forest fairy, complete with wand and wings) and the adults in their coats, thinking of how very good that beer awaiting them back home will taste. After much tracking and backtracking (the signs in the nursing home are apparently there to confuse rather than clarify), we finally found her sitting up in bed, cheeks rosy, eyes bright, telling the nurse her life's story. She looked like she did about 10 years ago and I don't think she drew breath for 10 minutes as she rattled on non-stop, relating her day's activities. If I didn't know better, I'd think she'd been dipping into the gin.
I want what she's having.
Well, without all the cutting open of one's chest cavity, of course.
She had a roommate, who was pronounced "very nice", and she's thrilled to be there where she knows so many people. I think she's going to choose to get better. The next day they were going to move her to a private room and start twice daily physical therapy. I know we're not home free, but she's only a week post-op and looking better than she has in ages. She's getting her drive-me-crazy personality back and she's in her element. She even knew her nurse, who goes to her friend's church. Everyone knows everyone in this small town.
Somehow, I think even the meatloaf will be palatable.
Thank you all, again, for all your patience and good wishes and just for being there. There really is nothing like a strong, supportive group of friends. You have helped me more than you will ever know.
And now back to our regularly scheduled blog. There's been too much seriousness, lately, carnivorous squirrels notwithstanding.
Labels: Whining to a Captive Audience
posted by Diana at 8:15 AM
16 Comments:
I also want what she is having...glad to hear she is getting better!
Great news! I am glad to hear she has rallied! You DID go to see her AFTER trick or treating right?
The Zombie Squirrel is your idea of seriousness? Hmmm...
I'm thrilled thrilled thrilled that she is doing so well. I'm sure you're ready to drop at this point. I just love feisty old ladies!
I should have added that I'm looking forward to being one myself!
That is fantastic news! Lilian is making great progress.
I'm sure the beer tasted extra good when you got home and you were able to enjoy it without that edge of anxiety that's been with you for the past weeks.
Boy, you know they're on the way up when the feisty, chatty person comes back. Maxine, she of the shattered femur, not to bear weight upon pain of the Inquisition, was at my sister's wedding a week ago and drinking wine. She was in a wheelchair and had her home aide with her--because she's at HOME already.
It's truly amazing to see them change so quickly. Much happiness to you. That beer must have tasted extra good!
Huzzah! I remember when my grandmother had bypass surgery done - she went from being confused and exhausted to being sharp and feisty, quite quickly.
This all bodes well for a good recovery and I'm relieved as I'm sure you are.
Dana- Yes. Better with a vengence.
Kate- We were smart and did head over there AFTER the Great Candy Nab of '07.
Julie- You and me both, sistah! Just please spare me the diabetes. Feistiness without chocolates (or booze) just isn't the same.
Rozanne- The beer was wonderful, yes, thank you. A nice German Spaaten.
PixelPi- Just think if your Maxine and my Lilian ended up in the same room. (Thrilled she's making such a fabulous recovery!!!)
Teri- Double Huzzahs! What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Ruth- Beyond relieved. She now wants us to go shopping for a new couch this weekend. From 0 to 60 in 2 days flat.
Excercise clothes? Wow. Good news. Not so good about the invasion of zombie squirrels.
V.
Excellent, excellent news!! Here's to continued improvement! Now go raid your kids' candy stash to celebrate! Oh wait, you probably already have done that...time for more brewskies probably.
Ah, we haven't found you too serious at all. Sounds like you need to balance out that spitfire of a heart-surgery patient, however.
She's a pip.
Great news ... whats next? ...sky-diving with the zombie squirrels?
Great News! I'm glad she rallied and is doing so much better.
The zombie squirrel thing is haunting me, I keep picturing squirrels with red eyes and bloody little squirrel paws.
I'm a wee bit late to the celebratory party, but I just want to say I'm happy to hear Lillian is better. She sounds like she's very comfortable where she's at, and that can't but help aid in her recovery! Now bring on more zombie squirrels!
Voyager- Most excellent. Of course to her, 'exercise clothes' are anything with pants and a soft top.
Colleen- Believe it or not, I've not had a single pilfered piece of kid candy. I know, I know. Shocking!
Jocelyn- She is, indeed, a pip. The fire has been lit.
Rise- Now there's an image!
Stace- I'm glad to see that I'm not the only one horrified by the gruesome little squirrel.
Jen- Thanks, so much. I would be happy, however to have no more involvement, even peripheral, with evil zombie squirrels.
Post a Comment
<< Home