Homecoming

Thursday evening, 8:30 p.m.  It’s quiet in the house now, except for the regular sigh of the oxygen concentrator.  Elliott has gotten into bed.  I’ve written out tomorrow’s to-do list, so now I can relax for a couple of hours.  Stress before bedtime is to be avoided at all costs.  It’s taken us a mere two days to get back into the old routines after Elliott’s return from rehab. Of course I’m happy to have him back at home, too, but I’m aware that my “living alone mini-vacation” has come to an end.  Once again, there are three daily meals to prepare, compression socks to wash out nightly, medications to keep track of around the clock, doctors’ appointments to schedule, etc.  The first 24 hours were hard for me, but I’ve settled into my familiar role of caregiver. 

Not surprisingly, Elliott is thrilled to be home again.  Right away, he re-established his domain in the family room, with all of his supplies within easy reach.  He can linger over his multi-course, cooked-to-order breakfast; he can sit in a comfortable chair and watch The Price is Right and Wheel of Fortune on TV; or he can gaze out the window at the deer nibbling the brilliant pink azaleas.   

Elliott raved about the food in rehab, but he’s delighted with the meals I’ve prepared for him, even though they don’t include mashed potatoes and gravy.  Here’s a photo from the dinner table tonight. 

  

  

He isn’t back to his pre-illness weight or strength yet, but Elliott still gets around the house quite well on his own.  Before he came home, I was afraid he might require 24-hour-a-day supervision, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.  He’ll get about 3 weeks of physical therapy and occasional therapy at home, as well as occasional visits from a nurse.  Otherwise, we’ve basically resumed life as it was before he had the pneumonia scare, which is pretty miraculous.  I guess it’s safe to start planning his 103^rd birthday celebration.