9/4 Hospital Tedium

Chuck leaned over yesterday on his own and tied his shoe. He stooped down, picked up some trash from the floor and tossed it in the wastebasket. After he brushed his teeth, he leaned down under the faucet, got water into his mouth, swished and spit it out. All the normal, automatic stuff seems to come spontaneously including Chuck's inclination to walk briskly rather than slowly.

There isn't much normal about a hospital environment. Simulated exercises, simulated language challenges. Long empty hours with a choice of this chair or that bed, outside or inside, this hall or that hall punctuated by repetitive therapy sessions.

I'm torn at times about how best to care for myself when it's clear it would be best for Chuck for me to hang around. It's another season to pass through, just like the season when we had to keep Chuck safe at the nursing home around the clock. The tedium gets to me occasionally. Chuck has always been more far more patient than I am.

Chuck continues to choose silence most of the time but he'll respond acutely to questions that are connected to life as opposed to small talk and general quizzing. For example, he had been silent for a long period when I asked "Who's winning?" He answered promptly, "Cleveland." (Game was on in the background.) We took a nap after I read to him from Emmet Fox's Sermon on the Mount and how change only comes through prayer. When he woke up I said, "What do we do now?" He said, "Pray."

This morning, I watched from across the room as Chuck did sit up after sit up in his bed. He is getting quite strong physically. I've got my eye on our lawn which takes over an hour to mow. I told Chuck he could forget convalescence; he had a lawn in his future.