Bobbing Up For Air
Yes, I am feeling like a half-drowned rat on a rapidly sinking ship. And you can be damned sure I am grabbing my ENTIRE yarn stash before I get into the lifeboat. Will there be room for those big plastic bins with all my knitted stuff in them, I wonder?
On Tuesday afternoon my Mom was moved over to a rehab facility in order to get some more intensive PT to get her up and moving again before she gets home. She had the option of doing 7-10 days in rehab, or going straight home and getting PT in 2x a week. Because the infection and laying around in bed (had to while the infection cleared up) has taken the stuffing out of her and she could barely walk, she decided to opt for the rehab. In the past, after hip replacement and before then after a stroke, she has gone to a rehab unit right next to the hospital and had a great experience - or as near to a great experience as one can have in such a situation. This time she opted for a nursing home 2 minutes from their house (for Dad's convenience, with his whole Meniere's issue) and we are all regretting that now.
I didn't go over to visit her there either Tuesday or Wednesday, because frankly I was exhausted and slept most of the afternoon Tuesday (to give you some idea, the tow truck came and took my old car away from in front of the house while I was sound asleep on the couch, and I never heard a thing), and on Wednesday I got home from work late, and was tired enough that I thought the other drivers in Tucson really didn't need me added to the mix at rush hour. So going to visit her there yesterday afternoon was something of a shock. This place is a hell-hole and I HATE that she is in there. Other than to say that the room is clean and that she has a nice nurse and a nice tech... UGH! It's noisy, there is someone across the hall who listens to their tv at full blast all the time, a screamer down the hall, a roommate who is senile and deaf as the proverbial post and so loud (and boring as hell) that it is next to impossible to have a conversation in the room with her talking to someone else. With a noisy O2 machine that makes noises like a giant aquarium pump, complete with water sounds. The room is small enough that if they were so inclined the two of them could lie in their respective beds and hold hands across the space between them. Because the roommate prefers everything to be bright, Mom, whose eyes are sensitive to light, has to lay in bed with freaking sunglasses on so that it doesn't hurt her eyes. All this so that she can have 1/2 hour of PT a day, and one dressing change that seems to only happen if Dad or I go down to the nurse's station and ask when the heck it will be done.
If this gives you some fraction of an idea of how I feel about the place.
Ok, I apparently needed to get that all off my chest.
In the meantime, I did get a visit from my Mom's mom, in the form of a pygmy owl perched in the mesquite in front of my front window, Sunday night. She stayed there hooting softly for about 10 minutes, looking around and preening, then flew away.
So let's talk about knitting. In the midst of all this during the past week, I have managed to get finished with Clue 6 of the Mystery Stole. I LOVE the whole concept of putting a WING! on the end of the stole. A wing! It is looking so beautiful, I think the idea is absolute genius. I know Melanie is planning a variation of the stole with wings in both directions, but I think that could get a bit precious, perhaps. But the idea of this metamorphosing into a wing - brilliant!
Until then, Knit On!
Lynda
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