While we were at the hospital, this manifested mostly in my taking anything packaged that Ronnie didn't eat or utensils she didn't use and sticking them in a bag for potential use later. At some point, it clicked in for me that Ronnie wasn't eating much of anything that she got, so I started ordering her meals with hoarding in mind. As a result, I arrived home with a couple of single serving packages of cereal, two cups of Oikos plain yogurt, an orange, a package of apple slices, 4 small slices of cheddar cheese, a dozen little cups of peanut butter, and 3 individually wrapped slices of whole wheat bread.
And this doesn't include what I left in my room, which were several sets of plasticwear, a strawberry yogurt parfait from which I'd already removed the granola, 2 half pints of milk and 3 whole wheat rolls, and assorted other bite-sized goods.
I know this is a tic of sorts. As with many of my tics, as it seems however, it came in handy on numerous occasions, such as making myself a peanut butter sandwich or a yogurt on short notice, prepared and consumed with the available plasticwear and neatened up with a napkin.
Second morning home feels better, if only because it lacks the drama of the leaky radiator. But it's also pretty (though cold) out and I've already started a fire at noon. I don't feel like I have my usual energy level back, but maybe today I won't need to nap an hour after drinking a cup of coffee like I did yesterday. Just like everyone is telling Ronnie that she needs to take her time and let herself recover, I kind of have to do the same thing, though I won't have anyone reminding me.
The visiting nurse came this morning. She was very complete and well-informed and probably repeated some variation of that stupid cover letter space-filler, "please don't hesitate to call" (I remember a writing teacher asking us to try to picture someone hesitating to call) 30 times in the hour she was here.
She left and next was the physical therapist. We didn't know she was coming, but the nurse told us she was and it's all fine. She talked about a few things and then said she'd be back tomorrow to do some exercises. Then rug cleaners are coming to take the stained rug away as well. Don't know if we'll be having any other visitors.
It's way more quiet here than in a hospital, in both good and bad ways. They say that people feel like some kind of safety net has vanished when they leave the hospital, because they get used to there always being someone at the ready to take care of anything. At home, I'm the safety net, which seems to be okay with both of us.
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