Saturday, Dec 10
Rylan walked 20 steps this morning, and double that amount in the evening. Slow improvements, small gains, and a bit of hospital toast to keep things steady. When the Dr was in changing the dressings he said Rylan had gained about a centimetre in height.
On the way to find some lunch Roberts and I took the road less traveled. A cow path, basically. Winding through farms and fields, turning around more than once at a dead end. Pretty sure we interrupted a dog walking party at a church. Or maybe it was a dog wedding. Anyway, on our drive we saw some happy people, some nonchalant people, and some people that didn’t think we should have ended up in their yard.
Otherwise I was at the hospital with Rylan most of the day. Roberts keep bringing snacks and beverages. The medical staff have a solution for each issue that comes up. Except for demanding roomies. No pills for that.
It’s so taxing to have to think twice with every small action. Toilet flush buttons could be anything from an innocent button in the wall to a glass panel, and it’s anyone’s guess where exactly you tap it to initiate a flush. Doors that I think should be pull need to be pushed. And vice versa. When you’re feeling emotionally fragile it really feels like the last straw. Then there’s the 90’s style silver key that I have to use to get in or out of my hotel room, and the exterior door. No joke. Spinning keys this way and that, trying desperately to figure out how to escape is not my strong point.
Somewhere in Germany there’s a girl rotating her room key, madly trying to get out of her room while Robert, from the hallway, is calmly saying, “Push, Grace. Push.”
