Follow up to Moving Furniture

IMAG0038[1]Oh what was intended as a time killer and a poor attempt at humor has changed to something so much more serious.  As my husband has had a turn in his health and ability to get around, moving furniture has now become something closer to making the house safer .  The big dining room table with the glass top must be sold and the tiny two person dinette table will sit in the dining room in it’s place.  The recliner in what I called my “Mom’s den”  will come back into the “guest bedroom” as the treadmill now fills that area.  Better he get his strength back there than having to step down into the garage, deal with boxes and the clutter that comes with a garage that is not as well as the heat and stuffiness of no air conditioning.

Things have taken a far more serious turn as I listen to him breathe, make sure he is breathing.  Afraid to go to bed, afraid he will wake up and decide to get up and fall yet again.  The first fall meant an ambulance and a trip to the hospital that turned into a nightmarish odyssey into a world of  understaffing with a never ending torrent of patients with all manner of needs streaming through door to the point there was no where to even stand and not be in the way.   He was kind of shoved into the corner of a one patient room while the second patient who was dying of lung cancer had a panic stricken episode of being unable to breathe which brought on a heart attack.    After hours and hours of working with that poor man, the nurses were able to move him to ICU, but forgot to give my husband food or water or start his IV (his fall was the result of severe dehydration).  He became so weak he was unable to pull himself up in the bed or turn on one side.

The following day, as his body began to recover from a lack of fluids his reason for dehydration kicked in, IBS.  Well, that was messy.  A well meaning CNA gave him one of those rolling thrones, giving him the feeling he could get out of bed, in his cramped corner while he was hooked to leads for heart, blood pressure, pulse, IV, just a web of tubes and lines.  He had his second fall and this time laid open his forehead and damaged his neck and shoulder.  He would up with 17 stitches, two black eyes, a bruised cheek and a lot of pain.  He was transferred to two more room on two different floors and was sent home Sunday.  Monday he fell again, I was asleep.  At least it was on carpet with carpet over it, good and soft.

So now it is no longer how to move the hutch,which is moved and looks so good, or move the desk, which is in it’s new location so I can be away and still hear everything his does, every breath he takes, it is about keeping him safe.

You know, you never know what life will hand you next.  I had so loved that glass table, now I see it as a threat.  The oversized coffee table that opened up to store the grands toys, another impediment to his safety.  Both go, neither to be missed.

I have to get some sleep, but will he fall yet again?  Will he aspirate his gatorade as he did earlier?

The lesson is be ready.  Life gives us wonderful things and we need to enjoy them, it can also hand us challenges, we must take them all in stride.  I am not doing the in stride part too well right now.

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