YESTERDAY Mr. Bob returned home by medical transport. The hospital stay was 14 days and the final hours were interminable. But at last the time and the paramedics arrived and we were on our way.
I was stunned to learn on the previous day that instead of coming home to our apartment, or even to a Respite Room, it was decided by the powers-that-be at the Manor, to put him into Skilled Nursing. In my mind, that's where people go who are on their way out. But it was explained that there he could have Physical Therapy and 24 hour care. Since he's on oxygen they can keep an eye on his count and truth to tell, I'm grateful for someone else to do it. We can go visit 'round the clock and he's in a nice, private room and is regarded as special because as a team, we put together that Staff Directory, so all the nurses remember us and seem to be giving him extra special attention, a bonus we hadn't anticipated while compiling the book.
Susan goes home tomorrow afternoon. I couldn't have gotten through this ordeal without the help of our offspring. She/they advocated when Mr. Bob wasn't getting what we all considered proper care, although it may have been Mr. B who kept turning down the opportunity to receive sponge baths and a change of bed linen. He never wants to bother anyone.
This morning he called from his room, suggesting going to the dining room for breakfast together. It came close to resembling an old fashioned date. He managed without oxygen, although dinner was a different matter because he was unhooked for a longer period. He really needs a small, portable tank to carry with him. Honestly, he's being treated almost like a rock star, as residents and staff members gather around to welcome him home. We're not at all used to such veneration.