Rehab

Burt landed in a nursing center/rehab after a hospitalization for hip repair.

I was there when he fell and like on other occasions when I was there but couldn’t say exactly what happened….

I had contracted covid and was on paxlovid and trying to stay away from him. I slept in the living room, but the next day, it was clear he wasn’t well. He weaved, almost falling into the bathtub. I needed to get him to his doctor but could not go with.

On the corner, he was animated. “There’s a cab. Let’s get it.” I think he darted from my right arm to my left side where he kind of crumbled.

The ambulance wouldn’t take me, and he bravely went with the lovely EMTs alone. He underwent surgery with my monitoring from a distance. 

Nothing seems to happen during the day in a hospital. I was on the phone with an anestheologist at 4am.

They got it. No prohibited drugs were used. By the time I could visit, Burt was being dismissed. I made the choice of a rehab facility, and within hours, we transferred.

The rehabilitation slash nursing center was a mixed experience. PT and OT were excellent, especially the PT. The speech pathologist saved Burt’s life; she told him he was on the verge of being malnourished; he started eating everything.

The CNAs were stretched to the point of breaking with some in the throes of compassion fatigue and a bunch compassionate but overworked. One or two worked brilliantly with Burt.

He seemed slower and more confused and had hallucinations that someone was beating him up when he escaped on the subway without his shoes. The hallucinations were confirmed by one of his roommates, who told me my husband wasn’t making it up. Some big guy hit him, David told me. These accusations were taken seriously by the social work staff, but investigating was obviously a dead end.

He seemed content to stay there after a while. I considered if it would make sense to send him to a home. Burt liked the activities once he began participating, but he wasn’t doing as well overall as he had at home.

Also, I missed him.

A social worker I talked to earlier in our journey said I would know when it was time for placement.

It wasn’t time. And this certainly would not have been the place.