My after-work visit on Tuesday night found Mother much perkier and in better spirits. Dinner was over, the wheelchairs were lined up near the nursing station, but this time, she was awake and recognized me and asked where I wanted us to go so I could sit down.
I wheeled her back to her room and we chatted a few minutes via shouting and white board while she enjoyed the pie I had brought for her. She told me about the Valentine’s party they had had – “We had cookies!” – and demonstrated her leg exercises. I asked if they had been helping her practice walking. She said they hadn’t, so I pulled her walker out of the safety corner and got her to stand up and walk a few steps. She was visibly stronger than when she had left the hospital, so I conceded to myself that the PTs probably knew what they were doing. And the antibiotics were doing their job, too.
My father-in-law made a very nice Get Well card. I tacked it up on her bedside bulletin board, along with a picture of her mother and a picture of her and us three kids all together.
After she finished her pie, she said, “I’ll be glad when they say I can be discharged and go home!”
“I know, Mom. Me, too. Keep up your leg exercises and you’ll be home soon.”
I took her empty bowl and fork, gathered her laundry from the hamper, and told her I needed to go and get my own dinner.
“You’ll be back tomorrow?”
“Yes, Mom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay. I love you. Tell Steve that I said ‘hello’ and I love him, too.”
“I will, Mom. I love you, too.”