Now my favorite turkeys are the ones you see here.
I had been to the hospital earlier in the day on Thanksgiving, to find Jimi in good spirits. There is no good day to be as sick as he was and no bad day to make a miraculous recovery, but the timing of his arise from the abyss has been quite hampered by the holiday. There is strict protocol at the ol' Kindred for getting rid of the trach. This involves capping the trach in the presence of the speech therapist and the patient handling it well for thirty minutes, three days in a row. Well the speech therapist came and did her thing Wednesday, and he handled it fine, then left, not to return until today. Gee whiz. So he spent the holiday weekend trying to convince someone to get him another ice bag for his shoulder, ahem.
I'm so very grateful for his amazing return to the land of the living, but I am so very sorry for anyone who is very needy that gets moved to rehab. All we do is fight for him. Just when I had started to recover from the last experience, here we are, knee deep in tug of war trying to get him the care he needs. Tish is going to need some care of her own before this is over. Handy Man keeps me going- so blessed by him.
Today was some sadness of a different kind. After the Captain got his first weimaraner, Gandee, someone wanted rid of their girl Gracee and she came to live with the Cpt., Ceece, and Gandee. The life expectancy for those dogs is about nine years. She was the darnedest old dog. In her life she has eaten the most remarkable and disgusting things and lived not nine or ten or eleven years, but thirteen years! I thought she'd live forever, but alas, today we said good-bye to that old girl. That Gracee-girl so loved her people and they will miss her so very much. I bought them a garden stone that says, "LOVE is a four-legged word."
Happy to have all the Advent calendars and books delivered. Yes, December is here.