The first time I walked into the cafe for lunch after my time away I got a standing ovation. I don’t know if I was truly missed or if they were just anxious to hear some tales from the future care level here at the continuum care complex. I’m the first of our ‘inaugural class’ so to speak whose had a health issue and was able to come back after Respite Care. One lady had gone there but ended up having to move permanently in the assisted living level, a few have died and three or four were able to just have the nursing services---a nurse plus an OP and PT come to their apartments as I will have through out February. There is still a danger of getting pneumonia if I don’t keep moving. Even if I wanted to laying around that isn’t an option because it still hurts too much, like I’m wearing a bra that is four sizes too small. They tell me that you can’t inflate your lungs all the way when you lay down with broken ribs.
I know one thing. The next time someone here gets ill or is recovering from something I’m going to be more responsive---beyond just dropping a card in a basket that always appears in our mail room when someone gets sick. I’ve offered to walk my neighbor’s dog when she was sick but that little stinker won’t walk with just anyone. He sits on his butt and won’t leave her apartment with anyone who’s tried. Her daughter had to come over ever day and walk him. I guess that makes him steal proof unless the would-be dog napper was into body building. Robbie is not a dainty little Scottish terrier weighting in at 35 pounds. When he’s out walking and he doesn’t want to go back home he does the sit-and-stay thing too, so his mom has to wait until he’s good and ready to go.
Things people have done since getting home (and before) include delivering boxes from the mail-room to my door, checking in with text messages, emails and phone calls, bringing me desserts from the main dining room, offering to deliver me take-out dinners and help with anything I might need around the apartment like making my bed. I refused all help but I did tell them next week I want someone to go down to cage storage with me just so I’m not down there all alone. It’s a series of hallways with sound proofed walls because of the boiler room near the storage. I accumulated stuff since breaking my ribs that I’ll no longer need and I want that stuff out of sight. I’m realistic, though, and know the odds are good I might need those medical aids again so I’m not donating much now. But I am a little ticked off at the OT who had me order so many things that I really didn’t need more than a week including a toilet seat riser that never even made it out of the box. I probably spent over $250 I didn’t need to spend. I guess everyone has to be mad about something after a health scare. So it might as well be her. The nurse did the same thing ordering me wound care products that I had here at home. Civil war could break out and I could now supply enough to turn me into the Clara Barton of the 21th century.
Speaking of the Red Cross (by way of Clara Baron who, as you probably know, founded the organization). While I was away a total of eighteen days you would not believe how many times the Red Cross and other charities and political groups have sent pitches for donations. Normally I’d use one of those ink rollers to block out my name and address on junk mail like that before tossing them in the recycling bin but the pile was overwhelming so I just torn all the envelopes in half and filled up two entire, plastic grocery store bags. Why I felt compelled to tear them in half I don’t know, it’s not as if someone is going to grab one of those pleas for money and send in a donation in my name. Political surveys, yes, I can understand the need to destroy those. Wouldn’t want a Ultra Trump fan weighing in on the coming agenda for the Democrats via way of those surveys which are just a pretend reason to ask for another donation.
Speaking of politics, one of the first things the kitchen manager asked me when I got back is if I wanted to sign up for the Valentine’s Day dinner, she was holding a place for me. She’s seating the Tuesday group formally known as the Liberal Ladies together at one big table because she needs the smaller individual tables for couples and families. I couldn’t be happier about that. The kitchen manager also visited me while I was in Respite Care and brought a Blue Bell ice cream bar. And did I mention that the very first person to call me after getting into Respite was the woman who caused us to drop the Liberal Ladies Secret Society name and split up into smaller, less obvious tables? I might not be entirely ready to kiss and make up but she acts like she didn’t have a hissy-fit that shook us up and caused us to essentially hide in plain sight. People are a fascinating collection of contradictions and foibles, aren’t we. ©
