and girls, too. They are showing up, asking to help. "Anything you need."
I know they mean it but I come up short. Right now, I'm the caretaker, the main person, who keeps this hospice ball rolling. Of course, helpful Nurse Nancy and her buddies are a phone call away but I have a range of medicines and schedules and symptoms worth calling about and those that are NBD.
I also have a few people who just do, without me asking; often without my knowing that I need something. They just jump in and the task gets done.
Wednesday, I actually wrote down 2 tasks. 1) The handle on the shower sliding glass door has come off. Could someone fix it? (No problem) and 2) I think I have a bat downstairs. What should I do?
A word about bats and others of God's creation. Most of our friends are kindhearted when it comes to creatures that come into a house by accident. You won't find many "squish it under your foot" "smack it with a tennis racket" or "grab the shotgun" folks in Indiana. What you get is a detailed plan for removal plus how helpful bats are and "poor thing just got lost." So, in case you're wondering, the plan was to open the back door and let battie find its way out. Don't know if it worked; haven't seen it swish by. Of course, my house has many nooks and crannies that a bat might find homey. Should he show up again, I'll let you know.
The hub's condition, and medical needs, have changed quickly. Scribble out THAT sheet. Start on a new sheet. Hey, make a chart. No wait, the chart is wrong because NOW we are doing this at 11 instead of that at 10.
So, when Nancy Nurse answered several questions on Thursday, I said, "Should we get a hospital bed?" I am learning that hospice people are all about What Do YOU Want? They don't push. They don't say no. They look for your lead.
This does not work so well with me. "Nancy, what would YOU do?"
"I'd get the bed."
"OK. Let's get it ordered. I'll place it where our king-sized bed is now."
This is because our bedroom has served as a multipurpose room, long before they were trendy. We have the television with the big cable package. Besides the center piece bed, we have three or four recliners and our favorite rocking chair. They form a comfortable circle that facilitates late-night discussions, even when SOMEONE is already in bed. She (!) just pulls the covers over her head so as not to distract them.
And, you may remember, Mike's Ducati has wintered in a corner of the bedroom.
So, the next task was to get that king-sized bed outta there. What to do? I turned to neighbor Mike, one of my guys, and asked if he could help. Of course he would and did. Grabbed his very tall son and a few more guys and told me to forget about it, it was as good as gone.
"One caution," I warned. "When we bought the bed, it had an odd sized mattress and Mike somehow connected to the wall. It's never been moved."
"There's probably 15 years of gunk and dusk and who knows what else."
"Ha," he returned. "You should see under my bed."
That's the kind of thing people say to make you feel better. I know his wife. I'm betting her floors are antiseptic.
But I digress. For the night, with no bed downstairs, I relocated us to our guest room which, by the way, has the best mattress in the house. We settled in and I heard a lot a guy talk downstairs..you know where they are talking about the plan, why it will/won't work, which way to turn....that sort of thing.
Soon it was quiet. I opened a window at the foot of our bed so we'd get a nice breeze. I turned down the lights and clicked on the television. Mike began to doze. My plan was to go downstairs after my Mike was asleep and make sure the house was locked tight.
Before I could, I heard a low, buzzing sound coming from the bedroom. THEY WERE VACUUMING MY FLOOR.
I got guys! I LOVE my guys!