Marty has kind of itchy feet, metaphorically speaking. She likes to move around. She has never been very good at sitting around watching TV. Being confined to a wheelchair makes that a little problematic for her, but , when at home, we try and get her in another room, go outside, go to the store, or something to scratch that metaphorical itch. The lake house helps with this a lot.
The hospital on the other hand hinders that wanderlust. Between the tubes, the breezy hospital gown, the various treatments and requisite visits by nurses and aids mobility in the hospital is difficult, at best. But we still try and get Marty at least up and out of bed for a period of time each day. Since they now lo-jack all of the patients getting off the floor is just out of the questions.
Today I got Marty out of bed and in her chair for about three hours. We saw a really cute therapy dog, a King George sumpin sumpin sumpin. Young, well-trained, cute -- just like me.
After Marty got over the "this chair is really cold in this no back gown" reaction we tried to play a couple of computer games (Strike a Match has always been a favorite). We didn't do very well in the games because we kept getting interrupted. We then began singing (yes we sing -- the term sing is relative and we sing) quietly. When we both got stuck on "If I Love You", from Carousel, I found it on You Tube and we listened to a bunch of songs, mostly from Les Miserables. This is absolutely one of the most stirring musicals I have ever seen, the songs still make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I watch Marty as she listens to stuff like that and kind of wonder what she is thinking as she listens. Marty has always loved music and still does. You can actually see it when she listens and when she sings very quietly to herself. She completely focuses on the sound and becomes almost transfixed to any video of the performers.
She is completely focused when she plays the piano. Marty is still a talented musician and music is still a part of her soul. It always amazes me to watch this woman, who has been so damaged, take her right hand and play, almost any piece. She is, of course, better with music she is familiar with, but she can still play anything given the time. How she manages to translate the notes on the page to the keys on the piano is a beyond me, but she does, and she really enjoys it. When Erin pushed Marty up to the piano for the first time after her stroke; that's when her recovery really started.
So, aside from a little boredom all is okay here at Providence. Marty's white count is down, her sodium is up, her blood pressure stable, but her feet kind of itch. Today we used a little music to scratch that itch -- it helped.