Posted by: Thomas Drinkard | April 28, 2012

Day Two of Rehab Facility Journal

Most would expect the food to be an early topic for this journal. Yes, it’s bland. Marge is bringing a bottle of Tabasco Sauce to take care of those blahs. So much for that.  I’ll grill steaks on the deck when I’m home.

Last night, my first here, wasn’t bad. Nurses and aides came in several times, of course.     Most of their visits were centered on the other man in the room.  I’ve never seen him beyond a glimpse as I was being installed in my bed. The curtain between us has never been drawn. I’ve never heard him speak. One of the staff told Marge that he doesn’t accept visitors.

Twice, last night, attendants came in and, performed a procedure that sounded as if someone was spraying a plastic sheet with a water hose.  After about 5 minutes of loud whooshing, they left. Mysteries continue.

The nurse came in this morning and announced a new game.

“We’re going to weigh you.”

Her assistant wheeled in a strange device that looked like a miniature industrial crane. The thing was a crane. The women rolled me (log roll style) on a heavy canvas pad. They attached cables to the four corners of the pad and hooked the other ends to the crane.  When they flipped a switch, I was lifted into the air and weighed.

When the aide read off the weight, it was accurate.  I knew.

I could’ve told them the numbers, within a pound or two, without the crane.  It wouldn’t have been such a neat experience, though.

Sounds from the hallway have changed. Since today is Saturday, there are more children’s voices. Probably tomorrow, there’ll be more.  I’ll let you know.

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