Finally, Don is home from the hospital...but with strings. They've signed him up for home physical therapy to get him back to base line. Base for him is independent transfers from his wheelchair to where ever and back. He's not quite there yet---I need to stand by to be sure he's safe---but I'm hoping we can build up his strength rather fast, given that he was doing so well after this fall's round of aquatic pool and land therapy.
I know all the rules that social services has to follow, now, before releasing people from the hospital are well intended, but it's still a scary thought that someone other than me can determine if I'm capable of caring for my husband at home, or not. The nurses at the hospital, in packs of two, all struggled to transfer Don but when I was there I was able to transfer him all by myself. They just didn't know his little quirks. Quirks like how he always has a false start the first time trying. They would tug and pull on his gate belt on his first try where if they'd have just given him a chance to try again, he would have done most of the lifting and shifting under his own power. It didn't do any good to tell them because each day it would be a different set of nurses and aids. And each day they'd fill in that little line on the nurse's notes "moderate or full assist" and thus social services has to follow up with our going home plans. Oh, well. At least he's home and we'll get our lives back as soon as Don proves that he can be as safe as I know he can.