It had been a good Monday, with my son-in-law Nick cleaning and organizing out in the garage. I worked on my business and made arrangements to take the Jeep to be repaired and to pick up an Enterprise rental car, all at the expense of Farmers insurance, whose customer backed into me last month, and tried to accuse me of hitting her, even putting in a claim against my policy! Yet Psalm 32:10 rang true once again:
He who trusts in the LORD, mercy shall surround him.
When I arrived at Steve's table, he was seated in a wheelchair, resisting moving into position at the table for dinner. He had fallen twice today already. I pretty much got him to turn his body and the wheelchair in the right direction, while chatting with the more lucid residents. One of them, a decently sharp one named Jackie, asked me, "Does he know you?" I hesitated a split second and said, "I believe so." I turned to Steve and said, "I'm your wife, right?" He smiled and nodded.
I then decided to pursue the matter, so I asked, "What's my name?" He grinned and tried to come up with it, but gave up, so I pointed to myself and said, "My name is Dana." Steve then straightened up, smiled proudly as if he were a student sure of the correct answer in class, and said, "My name is Dana." It is unclear at this point whether I said, "No, your name is Steve," or not, I was so stunned.
Just a few minutes ago, I came in from another trip to the ER, because Steve had taken a serious fall, stepping out of his chair when the st caregiver's back was turned to help another resident go back to her room for bed. This time he fell so hard that they heard it down the hall, landing on his back and head. So I respected their decision to send him to the hospital. I joined him later, as he was struggling against the stabilizing straps and board, yelling out. Even a shot of Adavan could not stop him from agitatedly lifting up his head and neck. Cat scans of head and neck showed no injury, so the doctor unstrapped him and called for Steve to be transported back to Raincross.
Plans are being made soon for Home Health to step in and help my husband, and for a physical therapist to work with him. He already has an appointment set for Friday with his own doctor. Steve is too weak nowadays to push himself up, just like he was here at home, where he lay on the tile one time until a scheduled caregiver arrived. It took 3 people to get Steve back up this time!
I'm not eager to speculate on Steve's future with a disease that just gets worse until it takes one's life.