Tuesday Morning

The days continue to pass.  As I watch my husband recuperate, the memories flood back and I am so grateful for a husband who is not a whiny-pest.  He just doesn’t complain, doesn’t cut himself any slack when it comes to self-pity and has been saying things like:

“I think I really could mow.  If I could just prop my foot up somehow, I have that zero turn mower, and it just uses hands.  I think I could mow.”  

‘NO, Daniel.  You cannot mow.”

“I need to go out to the chicken house with Gary tonight.  There’s some things I ought to check out . . .”

“NO, Daniel, You cannot go out to the chicken house.”

“I should go upstairs and check on that towel rack that came loose in Deborah’s bathroom.”

I didn’t say anything.  He will probably do that.  He’s been going up the stairs and down the stairs.  He’s been winding his clocks.  Twice a day, at least, he goes out and walks around our driveway circle.  “I’m sure glad that we have blacktop,” he says, smiling.  “If this wasn’t paved, I probably couldn’t do it.

His grandbaby is almost beside herself with concern.  

Yesterday, she and her Mommy came while he was trying to catch a nap on his chair in the sunroom.  He had asked me for a blanket, but, as sometimes happened, I hadn’t fetched it yet, so he asked her if she could “Grandpa his blanket.”   She, knowing all about his favorite blanket, trotted in, drug it out to him and helped him cover up.  She hushed us with her famous finger to the lips, “Sh-h-h-h-h-h!  Grandpa is sleeping!”   He dozed off, but his head was listing kinda’ starboard, so she decided that he needed a pillow  She found a small throw pillow on the other chair in the sunroom, and she put that (all askew) under his head.  He must have been seriously dozing by this point because he didn’t remember anything after the blanket.  Christina and I were working on some other things, but I heard her in there, talking on and on, and then she came back into family room and announced, “I was reading stories to Grandpa.”  Her book lay discarded on the middle of the area rug, and Grandpa was blissfully sleeping.

She has been quite interested in his walker.  

Some years ago, Daniel’s father, Ralph, had purchased a “Cadillac” walker, with brakes and tires and a fold down seat, large enough and sturdy enough for a man with some substance.  When Ralph passed away in November of 2010, his widow, Sue inherited it, and used it every day (that she was walking) until she passed away in February of this year.  The family didn’t want it, they thought, and were just going to donate it to the church.  My own Sweet Mama was having a terrible time right then, having had a bad fall that bent both of her feet back under her, and so I asked about taking it home for her use, and Daniel was more than happy for us to do that.  And Mama, though impressed with the walker, isn’t old enough for a walker.  Yet.  so it has been sitting in her bedroom, totally unused.  So, the other day, when the hospital wouldn’t release Daniel unless he had a walker, we decided we knew just the thing for him.

When Charis was here yesterday, Daniel came walking out to the kitchen, and then stopped and sat down on the walker to chat with her.  Her eyes lit up and she said, “Grandpa.  I want to push you!”  She got behind and heaved and hoed and couldn’t budge him an inch.  Then he stood up and she got on the seat, and away they went.  Grandpa and Charis, with Charis giggling herself silly.  She thought this was the life.  And Grandpa was having a pretty great time, too.  Around and around the kitchen they went.  Charis getting a ride and Grandpa getting therapy of the best sort.

He has had some trouble with his knee swelling up.  I tend to think it is because he is on it more than he should be.  It is and always will be a struggle for him to hold still and heal.  He somehow thinks that it is helpful to the healing if he keeps moving it somehow.  I am reminded that when the doctors say things like, “You can do anything you want.  Your pain will be your guide,” they are usually talking to people of a totally different caliber than this Certain Man.  And I think if they knew him they would have a whole list of “DO NOT DO!!!”  I remember that when I was in therapy, one of the things I heard over and over again around me was the encouragement to try harder.  And much of the time, the response was “It hurts too bad.  I just can’t.  I just can’t.  I just can’t.”  I have had reason to think that most of the time the problem is more getting people to do MORE rather than less.  This man changes the rules about everything.

We are eagerly looking forward to the weekend.  Our family plans to be together (minus Rachel ).  It will be the Ohio Grandchildren’s first trip to Grandpa and Grammy’s farm, and we can’t wait!  Raph and Gina plan to come in on Thursday evening, and Lem and Jess will come on Friday, Lord willing, and I am pretty much planning to just enjoy the time without trying to cram the schedule too full.  Food and shelter and raiment.  Therewith to be content.

Daniel’s first “in-home physical-therapy” visit is scheduled for today.  It will be interesting to see what the therapist has to say about his progress.

Top of the morning to you all, and what a glorious morning it is, here in slower, lower Delaware.

My kitchen,
Spring Flowers from our yard,
and a bottle from the grand old Lewes Dairy.
(It’s one of my favorite vases of all!)