Outside the window of your rehab/nursing facility, chilled by damp air and a cold breeze, I attempted to use
brainpower laced with heart to make a decision. Overhead the grey clouds like impenetrable stacked
membranes hid the sun that at that very moment was enticing people in Florida to ignore the warnings
that the beaches are Petri dishes breeding the coronavirus. Pressing close to the tinted glass of your
quarantined room, curving hands like an awning over my eyes, your figure dozed in a wheelchair near
the unlistened to animated blue screen. A slumped head, a slackened mouth, stretched neck muscles
leaving your chin as the support tripod. Dropping the palmed canopy, I wanted a moment before
knocking on the translucent barrier as I made an effort to envision being with you inside the 12 x 12 space with
the knowledge that we are not being allowed to leave the room. The receptionist relayed this
information as if everything will go on perfectly fine. How can that be true? Is she daft to suggest that
any human will be ‘fine’ mandated to their room? The other consideration is how can living in a
building with hundreds of compromised humans be safer than taking you home? What the heart wants may not
be an action that is right.
brainpower laced with heart to make a decision. Overhead the grey clouds like impenetrable stacked
membranes hid the sun that at that very moment was enticing people in Florida to ignore the warnings
that the beaches are Petri dishes breeding the coronavirus. Pressing close to the tinted glass of your
quarantined room, curving hands like an awning over my eyes, your figure dozed in a wheelchair near
the unlistened to animated blue screen. A slumped head, a slackened mouth, stretched neck muscles
leaving your chin as the support tripod. Dropping the palmed canopy, I wanted a moment before
knocking on the translucent barrier as I made an effort to envision being with you inside the 12 x 12 space with
the knowledge that we are not being allowed to leave the room. The receptionist relayed this
information as if everything will go on perfectly fine. How can that be true? Is she daft to suggest that
any human will be ‘fine’ mandated to their room? The other consideration is how can living in a
building with hundreds of compromised humans be safer than taking you home? What the heart wants may not
be an action that is right.
Last Saturday, you had called me, ‘It’s a nightmare in here’ that was your first reaction when room
quarantine was enacted. Staff had isolated all patients to their room where meals and therapy were
forevermore to take place. No visitors, no dining hall, no Starbucks (even though there was seldom a
person manning the cafe), no using comfortable furniture to sit in quiet windowed areas where we
could pretend that you were somewhere you wanted to be instead of a rehab joint. These were all the
reasons I had selected the facility … all those reasons were now off the decision plate. The mental
gymnastics halted … coronavirus had halted this for every family. Later, at the lobby door, I was
stopped by the attendant, you parked in the wheelchair at the hall corner waiting for me.
' For the safety of our patients, I cannot let you in' the receptionist chirped.
Glancing your way then eyeball to eyeball, the intensity of your message signaled: I want to come home.
You reiterated this vocally to the executive director, who had bustled out of her office with the
heightened commotion. 'How do I know he is safe' I had asked.
'We screen every worker before they come in by taking their temperature', the answer matter of fact.
On that day, I talked you down...you could not walk. How was I to care for you? Knowing your
stubborn nature I made my best plea, I could totally envision you breaking out not giving a shit where
you were going as you headed down Eleven-mile road in a wheelchair. Thankfully, you listened to
reason.
quarantine was enacted. Staff had isolated all patients to their room where meals and therapy were
forevermore to take place. No visitors, no dining hall, no Starbucks (even though there was seldom a
person manning the cafe), no using comfortable furniture to sit in quiet windowed areas where we
could pretend that you were somewhere you wanted to be instead of a rehab joint. These were all the
reasons I had selected the facility … all those reasons were now off the decision plate. The mental
gymnastics halted … coronavirus had halted this for every family. Later, at the lobby door, I was
stopped by the attendant, you parked in the wheelchair at the hall corner waiting for me.
' For the safety of our patients, I cannot let you in' the receptionist chirped.
Glancing your way then eyeball to eyeball, the intensity of your message signaled: I want to come home.
You reiterated this vocally to the executive director, who had bustled out of her office with the
heightened commotion. 'How do I know he is safe' I had asked.
'We screen every worker before they come in by taking their temperature', the answer matter of fact.
On that day, I talked you down...you could not walk. How was I to care for you? Knowing your
stubborn nature I made my best plea, I could totally envision you breaking out not giving a shit where
you were going as you headed down Eleven-mile road in a wheelchair. Thankfully, you listened to
reason.
Now a week later, the facts had changed, with the assistance of a walker, you can walk … laboriously,
cautiously but definitely...walking.
cautiously but definitely...walking.
Your action, walking, changed the spectrum, the colors had separated like a rainbow, I had to focus on the green.
If the world as we know it locks down, would you be better off at home than in a community of
compromised bodies, weakened protoplasm, Petri dishes not of their own choice, but still a rich
environment to propagate the coronavirus? A simple 'Six degrees from Kevin Bacon' game with dire
results.
If the world as we know it locks down, would you be better off at home than in a community of
compromised bodies, weakened protoplasm, Petri dishes not of their own choice, but still a rich
environment to propagate the coronavirus? A simple 'Six degrees from Kevin Bacon' game with dire
results.
What is the responsible action to take? That past Saturday examining you from the vantage point of
the lobby door I had debated: Should I bust through the secured door and wheel you out? Then
what? You could not walk. The surgeon’s wound was beginning to heal on the outside of your
buttocks where the partial hip replacement is attempting root, the severed muscles forming what is left
of the back of your trunk had not healed. The prior October (2019), your second stroke (major stroke sixteen
years before) was followed by thirty-five days combating a staph infection contracted from an infected pic
line that had left you weak. You had only begun the journey to gaining strength when your hip broke
separating the socket ball from the femur bone. Excruciating pain - an 11 out of 10 is your description and you are a stoic man not prone to exaggeration. You recalled that you did not fall. Later, the surgeon explained that when a person cannot bear full weight on their leg - as you have not - the blood flow is hindered over time causing brittle bones. You could have simply turned and the bone snapped. This could happen again. And, I am afraid.
the lobby door I had debated: Should I bust through the secured door and wheel you out? Then
what? You could not walk. The surgeon’s wound was beginning to heal on the outside of your
buttocks where the partial hip replacement is attempting root, the severed muscles forming what is left
of the back of your trunk had not healed. The prior October (2019), your second stroke (major stroke sixteen
years before) was followed by thirty-five days combating a staph infection contracted from an infected pic
line that had left you weak. You had only begun the journey to gaining strength when your hip broke
separating the socket ball from the femur bone. Excruciating pain - an 11 out of 10 is your description and you are a stoic man not prone to exaggeration. You recalled that you did not fall. Later, the surgeon explained that when a person cannot bear full weight on their leg - as you have not - the blood flow is hindered over time causing brittle bones. You could have simply turned and the bone snapped. This could happen again. And, I am afraid.
Will I be able to take care of both of us? Do I have the strength yet one more time to take this task on?
Do I want to? Your health care has been a sixteen-year journey often with me pushing against the
heaviness of being your caregiver.
Do I want to? Your health care has been a sixteen-year journey often with me pushing against the
heaviness of being your caregiver.
Last week before schools closed in Michigan and our careers went into a holding queue, a co-worker
commented: 'You are the unluckiest person I know'. I read too much about the world to think I am the unluckiest person. Daily, I stood at the edge of a mirky, black swamp of your health needs testing the water before jumping to the nearest dry spot. But, there have always been dry spots. Living in middle America surrounded by luxury and experiencing a full belly, I would feel shame to ever enter into the sinkhole of feeling ‘unlucky’.
commented: 'You are the unluckiest person I know'. I read too much about the world to think I am the unluckiest person. Daily, I stood at the edge of a mirky, black swamp of your health needs testing the water before jumping to the nearest dry spot. But, there have always been dry spots. Living in middle America surrounded by luxury and experiencing a full belly, I would feel shame to ever enter into the sinkhole of feeling ‘unlucky’.
There is exquisiteness that cannot be denied. Take, for example, breathing, the in and out of being connected to a larger whole. The intense fight a ventilated coronavirus victim battles to continue to breathe demonstrates the desire to stay in this world with family and friends. Knowing this confirms that 'doing my part' includes not falling apart.
Thoughts return to you sleeping in a wheelchair. We are seventy years old this year 2020, for better or
worse (and there have been many 'worse'), we have struggled to stay together. I know exhaustion. And, the
yang emotion of getting up renewed.
worse (and there have been many 'worse'), we have struggled to stay together. I know exhaustion. And, the
yang emotion of getting up renewed.
You woke. My mental exercise dissipated as life experiences often had to put us on opposite sides of the
invisible but real spectrum. I paused.
Then smiling, pretending inner strength, holding up my cell phone, signaling you to
answer the ring. Moving the chair with your one good leg, you maneuvered to the side table where the cell
phone sets beside a half-filled plastic urinal. The decision wasn't just yours. I also chose the Petri dish of two.
invisible but real spectrum. I paused.
Then smiling, pretending inner strength, holding up my cell phone, signaling you to
answer the ring. Moving the chair with your one good leg, you maneuvered to the side table where the cell
phone sets beside a half-filled plastic urinal. The decision wasn't just yours. I also chose the Petri dish of two.
Aside: On the day of discharge as I waited in the glass lobby for the nurse to give me your prescriptions,
three people with white coats rang the entry buzzer. I listened as the receptionist tried to take their temperature.
They took turns examining the instrument. No, she wasn't sure she had another. And, interestingly, they
continued past the desk..a matter of fact.
three people with white coats rang the entry buzzer. I listened as the receptionist tried to take their temperature.
They took turns examining the instrument. No, she wasn't sure she had another. And, interestingly, they
continued past the desk..a matter of fact.
