We got home from our last hospital stay on Saturday, June 6. It was a marvelous four night three day stay but it was a little pricey for the amenities offered. We rolled Marty out cured of all that ailed her. It’s something of a conundrum, you go to the hospital to get better, you would think rest is part of that. You would think wrong, Marty was tired.
It took a few days for her to recover but she did and Marty is just spiffy right now. We checked again for nasty bugs in the urine and she is nasty bugs free, let us all rejoice.
Marty’s healing is best exemplified in two very simple stories. I find them fitting and more than a tad bit humorous.
On the second day in the hospital I wanted to get Marty out of the bed and into her chair, its part of our ritual. Lying around in bed all day, even when a bit ill, is not beneficial to anyone. Marty’s nurse came in and unhooked her IV and I swung Marty’s feet out of the bed and stood her up to transfer her to her chair and Marty says, “Why are we doing this?”
Me, “It’s good for you, besides, we might want to make out or something,” Now understand I say this stuff for Marty’s benefit, she loves it when I play the fool, and sometimes my mouth just says stuff, I can’t help it.
Marty looks at me, looks at the nurse, looks back at me and says with a note of seriousness, “I’m not doing that, I’m not making out with you. I’m not kissing YOU.”
Well okay, shot down once again by my own wife. She may have a teeny tiny bit of brain damage but she is not going to let me have my way with her.
The nurse, who probably didn’t understand that Marty still had spice, wit and sand, busted out laughing at her somewhat indelicate response and I suspect I looked the part of the goofy old husband, which is type casting at its best.
The second anecdote is really the second verse to the same song.
Marty has one of those lift chairs, she sits, you press a button and it moves her to a semi-standing position, maybe a little hunched over because the back of the chair pushes you forward.
When I get her up I hold the controller, stand in front with her wheel chair to my right. I push the button and sort of tap my foot as I wait for the slow rise of the chair. Sometimes I sing, “Up from the chair she arose.” Yeah I’m the goofy old husband, we have established that.
Sometimes I lean forward and push my forehead on her forehead and we laugh a little, every now and then I will put my forehead on hers and reach down and kiss her on the lips (sorry kids). This time I leaned down, touched my head to hers and puckered up for the peck and Marty turns her face to her left, dodging my puckered lips, leaving me in mid-pucker. I hate mid-pucker.
She turned and smiled and I thought, clever girl, giving me a bad time and puckered and went in for a quick peck, thinking I was going to get it in but no, she turned to the right and there I was lips on her ear.
I pulled back a bit and said, “Okay, what the hell was that?”
Marty laughed out loud as only she can at this point in her life and says, “It was the Dodge.” She laughed more at my expense.
Now the moral of both of these stories is that Marty has still got it. She has wit, she has humor and she still lives for keeping this goofy old guy in his place.
Next time I’m going to be faster.