My Nurse Wears Suspenders

I guess if you don't know what suspenders are, I'm in deep trouble right now. Some folks call them braces... either way they are designed to keep waist-down covers up. The best thing about them is that they are bi-sexual and it doesn't matter whether you are rich or poor... they go with a tuxedo as well as a pair of double-knee work jeans.

In our house they are also known to make a statement. My nurse, Mr. S, B.S.N., wears a pair of them to cheer me up. They are really pretty worn out but they still work. On one side it reads "Half Way Inn" and on the other side it reads "Skinny Dick's." If you've been to Alaska, you'll know about this place and get a good laugh. If not... you'll think I have pretty low standards and a disturbed sense of humor.

My nurse, Mr. S., B.S.N.'s title should be clarified as well. He does not have a Bachelor of Science degree in Nursing. He does have a Bull S*#@ in Nonsense. This degree allows him to wear comfortable clothing while on duty, nap in his recliner and check in at the local tavern to file his daily reports. I asked about paperwork... he shrugged and said, "They accept verbal reports about your condition... not to worry."

Worry? Not me. I have two walkers, a cell phone, and multitudes of medical equipment. I can grab things with my grabber (the nurse is included in this category), get dressed with a selection of other tools and rinse my hair in the sink. Socks. Be damned them. I will NOT spend another penny on equipment for the aged. This includes the sock pulling on device. Why? I tried one out. It took me 10 minutes to get the sock on the device because I don't have hand strength. Then, I barely had the coordination to put my foot in the hole and pull the socks off the device and onto my foot and leg.

Knowing full well that there are other sock pullers I can use, I have gone on "occupational therapy strike." I prefer the Mr. S Nurse method of sock application. He does whine about my leg height and on occasion, my needs do not fit his busy schedule. Lucky me. I have an alternate source of assistance RIGHT NEXT DOOR... yes, my daughter the neighbor lady. She has turned out to be the hidden gem in this situation. She travels faster than a locomotive and jumps higher than a kite. She also has done shopping, cooking, necessary nagging and she's good at scrubbing my back. Her sis Pam came to visit and cleaned the house.

Gosh, just in case you missed this part... I had a new hip installed on Nov. 20 and repaired on Nov. 21. After ten days in hospital I was more than ready to come home. Since then, I'm restricted to what I lovingly call the "snail trail." This is when my walker and I go from my chair in the living room to the bathroom and to the bedroom. Yes, I sometimes go to the kitchen. This is something new so I'd rather you didn't blab to anyone on my medical team.

Snail trail? If I move my walker so much as two tiny itsy bitsy inches in any direction that isn't the bathroom... I'm a goner. I will get a lecture from the neighbor lady but the nurse doesn't give a hoot. His job is to make vacuum cleaner marks in the carpet. I hate this because when he vacuums I am faced with a clean slate. No cheating is possible. Ack! This is just one reason why walkers are loved and hated by all of us who use them... they leave a trail.

These precautions are necessary because of some broken bones and other troubles. In the beginning I was under constant surveillance and I'm pretty sure we all got tired of looking at each other. Let's just say that I'm blessed to have a family who stands by me. I did a nursing home stint some years back and it wasn't a good thing for me. I'm far better at home with Mr. S, B.S.N., Grover and the rest of our local tribe.

Shannon is faster than a speeding bullet at running errands... her sister Pam cleaned our house and my Mom has come to visit with other family members several times. We've also discovered that we have friends whose love and devotion have few boundaries. How can any of this be wrong? All this and those old suspenders? Holy Cow.

This hip was a gift to me for my 70th birthday on Thanksgiving. The surgery was a long time coming. As it turns out... it'll be a long time healing but I can't regret the goodness found along the way. It's good to be back. xoxo

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