The papers we signed to leave mentioned that H could not drive. Then she was told that by Oregon law her license had been revoked. To get it back, her mental condition would have to improve, get a doctor's permission, pass the test again, etc. This upset her very much, as anyone who knows her will know. (Learning she cannot handle her financial affairs upset her more later: but even yesterday, she ordered two books from Amazon on her Kindle, things I can't imagine her reading, and doesn't remember it at all ... fortunately they were cheap, but therein is the problem.So she is very depressed as we leave the hospital. I try to put a bright perspective on things. Honey, they want you quiet and relaxed for the next few months. Pretend you are on vacation! And she said, I swear on a stack of Norman O Brown's LOVE'S BODY, "I might really like this." Of course, three minutes later, no memory of this, but I am reminding her several times a day that she said it.
Driving home was a nightmare: we got caught in the Portland Marathon mess. I finally crossed the river and we took the Ross Island Bridge back.
Sketch welcomed her with sloppy kisses, the welcome she wanted in the garden hospital. He was all over her and she loved it.
This was a working pass. I had a list of home tasks to give her and mark each Acceptable, Not Acceptable or Borderline. Hardest was getting out of bed and getting out of the shower and getting off the toilet.
30 mins at home and she was tired. She also was cold. It was over 80 outside and the inside thermostat said 72. She was cold. Normally I am the one who is cold. I had opened the bedroom window because that's the way she likes it ... she asked me to close it. Her sensitivity to heat and cold is different.
On the bed we talked. She wanted to know why no one was helping her get better. I explained that she has half a dozen therapists and doctors helping her every day, working her so hard that she is exhausted, now and again they even have to drag her out of bed to work, this is the boot camp of rehab! All she remembers is nothing happening.We went to the nearby school grounds to exercise the dog. She sat on the slanted hill of grass. When it was time to leave, she couldn't get up. If I tried to help her, it hurt her chest, too painful. It took us fifteen minutes to figure out how to get her on her feet. We missed that class, I recalled, because a substitute nurse was late giving morning meds and all the classes were late, so they cut that part. Obviously we need it.
We were to meet Pam for dinner at 630. By five she was exhausted, wanted to eat and go to bed. So we met at 545 instead. Also, getting there from the hospital, H at home was going to walk, in the car wanted a walker, and by the time we parked wanted a wheel chair. I took her in a wheel chair.
Dinner was just okay. Coffee was just okay. She has had nothing in food or drink she has really liked since Sept 16. Maybe her tasting is different, too.
Very tired by the time I wheeled her to her room. I was too. Here I am. Rooting for the Angels to win, and writing this, easier with a full keyboard on H's computer.
It was a good day. We learned some things to fix. For a moment, she saw that doing little can be something to enjoy. Sketch got back into her life. A good day ... that will start all too soon when I leave the house to get there to have breakfast with her.
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