Page 72 of Hard Hat Hottie

“I understand. Tiffany will work with you to get the home care set up. We only want to see her have a good outcome. While she doesn’t require surgery, the healing process will be complicated. We have to be careful about pain medication in light of her cognition. But it’s imperative she get up and moving about. This will reduce her risks of a pulmonary embolus or pneumonia. PT will help her use a walker and OT will assess if there is any other adaptive equipment she’ll need to keep her safe.”

A walker? I guess it makes sense. But can’t imagine how that’s going to go. She barely remembers to wear shoes before she goes out the door. “We already have things in place, but I appreciate their effort and will gladly provide whatever they recommend. But I’m certain she’s more comfortable at home. The nurses had a hard time keeping her calm and cooperative last night. That’s not good for her or them.”

My irritation is starting to bubble over. I’ve got twenty-four hours to get as much done as possible before returning to Miami. “I need to get back to Mom. I’m hoping I can take her home this afternoon so I can meet with the home therapy team tomorrow before I leave.” I don’t miss the grimace on his face at my request, but I need him to work with me.

“We’ll do the best we can.”

“I appreciate that. But one way or the other, she’ll be at home tonight. I’d prefer it to be with your help.” She needs to be back in her own surroundings before the confusion of sundowners kicks in again. Receiving phone calls to return to the hospital because they can’t get Mom to settle down isn’t a tolerable option if Joyce and I can provide what she needs where she’s more relaxed.

With a curt wave, I spin in the direction of Mom’s room, anxious to check in on her before I pick up the items Joyce requested. Once there, I notice she has a tray of food placed by her bed, but the rubber dome is still over her plate and she’s asleep.

I pull the bedside chair closer to her and give her arm a little rub, her vibrant red nails catching me by surprise. Her lids slowly open to greet me, those blue eyes seeming less bright these days. Is it the pain?

Or are they fading away like the rest of her?

“Hey, sleepyhead. Your lunch is here. Do you want to eat something?” Reaching over to the bedside table, I lift the dome to find a sad-looking tuna fish sandwich and chips. There are some fruit slices in a small cup off to the side. Hell, if I didn’t have an appetite because I was recuperating, this certainly wouldn’t tempt me. One more reason to get her home. “Do you want some of this fruit?”

Silence. Her favorite retort.

“I like your nails.” I stroke the shiny surfaces. Hmmm. Wonder why this one is bare? Maybe it’s some new trend.

“She’s pretty.”

My head snaps up, my smile feeling so foreign on my face I almost rub my cheeks. “They’re pretty, you mean.” Those blue eyes have a bit more of a twinkle than was there mere moments ago. Had Char come by? Or maybe one of the nurses here? Regardless, I am grateful. These moments of clarity are so short-lived. “Are you hurting, Mom?”

“No.”

“Do you want to try to eat?”

“No.” She lets out a sigh, and I squeeze her hand a little tighter.

“I’m going to bring you home today. We’re trying to get everything straight first. You’ll have to work with the therapists. They want to keep you safe. But Joyce will be there.”

There’s no further acknowledgment as she closes her eyes and drifts back to wherever she’d been before I arrived. Lifting her sweet hand to my mouth, I kiss her knuckles and try to chase away the negative thoughts that often come when I’m alone with her this way. Wondering how much longer I have with her. Which word might be her last.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

I glance down to see Char’s face and smile. “Hey. If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”

“Um, we’re on the phone. Do I need to have you checked out while you’re in and out of that hospital?”

“Your picture pops up on my phone, you goof.”

“Ah.” She giggles.

“So what’s up?”

“I’m just checking in on you. How’s she doing?”

Leaning back in my chair, I try to focus on the positive. “She spoke a little.”

“Oh, Harry.” She breathes. “That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah. It didn’t last long, but I’ll take whatever she’ll give me.” Instinctively, I rub her sweet hand again. There’s no disputing it. I’m a glorified momma’s boy. But she’s been the one person in my life I could count on. And she deserves the same in return.

“I can’t tell if she’s in pain. They’ve probably given her something, but she keeps falling asleep. But then again, that could be because she was up all night raising havoc.”

“Oh no.”

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