ADJUSTING TO "STABLE"

Poor Bob. The body brace started at his hips and went up to his armpits.
Basically a Teflon sandwich held together with the international and universal "attach all-Velcro.......Therefore it took an act of God (initially ) to sit him up. We used the bed control to sort of pry him half. It was at that time Bob and I adopted the jingle" weebles wobble, and they do fall down!" as our very own.
He could fold, but the "balance thing" was non-existent. "Man-over!" became a very common phrase also. Then Id have to call a nurse, or any poor schmuck that happened by the room to press on one side while I pushed on the other. For a few days, it was touch and go. No One warned him about the "you can't sit if you can't feel your butt" thing. (try it-if you are able-bodied-it is impossible to imagine not feeling your butt).
The whole "lets sit Bob up" game tended to last only moments until we'd have the entire wing in mass hysteria! No one knew whether to laugh or cry. Thank the Lord, most laughed. Neither one us could have taken to much more pity, it gets
Old.
Bearing in mind that Bob is still located in a TRAUMA unit, we tried to be serious., but, then again, if one gets too serious under these circumstances, one tends to. become a living plant pot Thus, visitors were not only welcome they were encouraged. I happened to be visiting my cousin Barbara (next room) at the same time Bob's ex wife (one of them) showed up. One of the nurses came in and told me that I would REALLY prefer to stay in Barbara's room for a bit. I asked "why". She told me Bob had whispered to her and ask to deliver the message. That's all it took. An Ex-eh? O K AY.
Barbara rang for the nurse, after dropping her glass of water on the floor. The nurse (ever so prompt on this floor) came right in, looked at the mess, and two very sheepish girls, and pleasantly (with a touch of sympathy) advised she would send a cleaning crew in immediately.
I (unfortunately) can't remember her name, but she was the sweetest thing. The cleaning gal whipped in there with her mops and promptly had the room sparkling.
As she was about to leave, Barbara ask her to come closer. She obeyed. We filled her in on Bob's visitor, "the EX".
This little gal knew exactly what was being asked of her. She turned giddy at the prospect. It was like she, had a cloak and dagger hidden in her cleaning cart for just such an occasion .' .-' Bless her. She went into Bob's room and pretended to clean, all the time making more little messes so she had to return with a different cleaning supply.
First she came back with a description. We sent her back for more..she came back with bits of the conversation.,:we begged for more...she went back and
returned with one final report, "Bob looked bored, pissed off and tired, so her closed his eyes and started snoring".
The cleaning girl started giggling and told us it worked....Marg had left, never to return. Spy mission accomplished!
I returned to Bob's room. He was awake. He knew exactly what Barb and I were doing, but he said that he didn't think Marg had caught on so he feigned sleep so she would leave. IT WORKED. Then he told me of the phone call while Marg was there. His other EX called to see if she could come visit.
Same day, His EX girlfriend, JJ called said she wanted to come. Of course Bob said sure it was alright. But her car was broken down, she needed a ride-you guessed it, I went to pick her up.
In my warped mind, I thought this would put to rest any thoughts I had of Bob still having feelings for any of his past "Loves". I was positive that I was mature enough, sensible enough, and a nice enough person, to be an adult, and pleasant all at the same time.
Blondes shouldn't think. IT HURTS> The conversation started out pleasantly enough, "car broke" "yeah" "Nice day" "Yeah" "Been in town long" "Nah" You get the idea. SHE SEEME~~ BIT PUT OUT!
She then began to talk of her wedding plans, how she and Bob had decided on this lovely church and her gown was over 5,000.00 and he was going to buy her a mink coat, and on, and on......
You know the little finger grippy thingys on the steering wheel? By the time we got to the hospital, the ones on my steering wheel were 2 inches deep and my finger prints had been permanently embedded.
I let Bob have her all to himself. Had I stayed, she'd be in the toilet tank with the beer!
I sat in Barbara's room. The women stayed in there for DAYS (actually a couple of hours). Our friendly "spy-maid" finally came in and advised us that she had departed (no-not that way (darn).
Back to "POOR BOB". J.J. had told him that she was prepared to stay as long as it took and that she could learn to be his primary care person, and on and on.....
Thought he was going to gag! If I recall, one of the guys from the airport took her home.
Bob said he tried to fake sleeping, she started to knit....He told her he was tired.
She kept talking.
I am not sure whether he ever told me how he finally got rid of her, but whatever it was-It worked!
Finally, some peace and quiet-just in time for "Cocktail hour".
There is admittedly something gross about pulling your drink out of a toilet
tank,but-ya gotta do-what ya gotta do.....right?(and the New Hampshire water is
icy cold-ALWAYS)............