The Cuckoo's Nest

So, there's been some rather dramatic changes in my life these past few months. I've gone from an apartment to a hospital to a convalescent hospital (where I was told I had a life expectancy of 6 to8 weeks) to this assisted living place.

I've outlived my predicted life span by 12 weeks, gained weight, and improved to the point of walking behind my wheelchair instead of lying in bed. I can go up to 90 minutes without oxygen, and, thanks to a hospice organization, I've got a portable O2 unit I can take with me if I go out for longer than that.  I'm not cured, but I'm doing better.

The reason for these improvements is this joint and its wonderful staff.  Loving and compassionate folks, them.  Also, I've met a lot of residents who have encouraged me to keep living and to enjoy every precious minute.

Most of the residents are here because of strokes and dementia, including Alzheimer's.  Some are here with the end stages of diabetes. Nearly all who are not bound to their beds are up and about:  in the halls, outside in the patio, or in the Activities Room.  Many of those who are out and about will chat, and there are several who make sense most of the time.

While this place is expensive, it provides me with a room I share with a congenial woman, food (which ain't bad, except for the mushy vegetables), maid service (I don't even have to make my bed or dust or vacuum or clean the bathroom), and transportation to medical appointments.  My caregiver gives me a shower twice a week.  The saintly hairdresser comes twice a week to cut, style, shampoo hair and to cut toenails.  In a sense, it's like being rich and having servants.  Not bad at all, to my way of thinking!

So, each night I go out to the patio, check the phase of the Moon, and thank whatever holds this universe in such a loving embrace for my consciousness and for my life.  It's been a great ride and I'm ready for whatever comes next.