Yesterday afternoon Bo was finally discharged from the hospital, so we’re all home! We left with a bag of foaming soaps and creams, tissues and bed liners, wheeling Bo down the elevator and out the revolving doors into the fresh air and sunshine that we all needed.
Bo’s so weak that he could hardly take one step up from the garage into the house, his balance is off and he looks as if we’ve starved him. I actually had to run out to buy him a couple of pair of stretch-waist shorts in a smaller size.
But he had dinner at the table with us and this is an interesting thing: in the hospital we had to feed him his meals. He sat, opened his mouth and chewed the food, but lost interest quickly. We had to cajole him to get him to eat much. He didn’t even always understand a straw and would try to chew on it. At dinner here last evening, he sat up, ate his own meal with a fork and spoon, including some ice cream which I would have fed to him in the hospital. He was the same way with his personal care.
As soon as he came into the house he sort of slipped into his familiar routine, such as it is. I think all of this is very interesting because it says something about being in an institutional setting. Of course, he felt awful and had a lot of pain, but still, it’s as if he declined just by going through the hospital doors. You often hear that when elderly people are put into nursing care, they decline precipitously. I think that’s what would happen to Bo.
So we’re sort of back on our home schedule and can get better sleep, although I slept lightly last night, as I did in the hospital, because I wanted to be up with him when he got up, as he does often throughout the night. Hopefully, he will heal from the kidney surgery soon and be more comfortable — no more pain.