Healing

My elderly friend in town was transferred to a rehab facility early this week.  After two weeks in and out and back in the hospital, Ruby is finally beginning to feel better.

I visited her in the hospital the end of last week, once her son and daughter gave the okay.  The second admission found her in the care of a different doctor, and the new perspective provided a different course of treatment.  It takes time for medications to take effect, and the difference just between Thursday and Friday was remarkable.  By Monday it was decided that she was ready for rehab.

The transition was tough ~ a new place, new staff, and unknown expectations.  She called me Monday evening.  She wanted help with a plan to leave as soon as possible.  I told her I would visit Tuesday.

When I arrived yesterday morning I didn't know what to expect.  The place was bustling with staff and residents.  More than one person greeted me and offered to help.  I was directed to Ruby's room.

Throughout my visit we had time to talk about how she was feeling, her transition to this new place, and the things that aren't known at this time: how did she get so sick in what seems like a short period of time; how long will it take for her to be well enough to go home where she has always lived independently; what does the future hold?  During the day she had sessions with an occupational therapist, who fitted Ruby with special stockings for her swollen legs and brought a recliner into the room so Ruby can sit with her feet elevated, and a physical therapist, who took Ruby through the paces of going up and down stairs and had her doing leg lifts with light weights in the therapy room.

Ruby didn't understand that rehab is where she will work to get better.  Every person who spoke with her, including a long private session with a social worker, talked about what needs to happen so she can go home.  At 80 years old, she remembers how people used to go into facilities, never to leave.  Now the goal is to help people stay independent as long as possible.

I have tried to call three times this morning but haven't found Ruby in her room.  I was told there is a barbecue for lunch, and with her returning appetite Ruby may be enjoying a hamburger as I write this.  I will go tomorrow to take her a can of mixed nuts and fresh blackberries that grow near her house.  On my way back I will stop at her house to hang freshly laundered curtains and do a bit of cleaning in preparation for her return home, which I am optimistic will happen.

Ruby has been a dear friend for six years.  We discovered early on that we are a lot alike, and we understand each other.  She first told me, when I visited her in the hospital, that she didn't want me to come but that I came anyway.  I told her that of course I would come.  She didn't want to ask but she didn't have to.  We have talked over the years about how we found each other when each of us needed a friend to talk with over a cup of coffee at the kitchen table.  At times she has been a lifeline for me.  Friends do that for each other.  Now it's my turn.