Kara Mia

CHAPTER 18 Eleanor Roosevelt and Me The point of Kara being in the hospital was for her to recover to the point where cardiologically and rehabilitatively she was well enough to return home. Our home was empty without her and we knew that her being home with us was the best rehabilitative medicine available but it was a change that was loaded with emotional and medical and logistical issues. Even though I was so happy that Kara could come home instead of having to go to a residential rehabilitation facility, her journey home was a difficult time for me.

First of all, Kara and I were leaving the protective confines of the hospital. Even though Tom and I were with Kara a lot, the nursing staff and therapists delivered a good percentage of Kara’s physical care each day. They took care of her each night, and Tom and I could sleep knowing that she was well cared for in our absence. Each morning the nurses bathed her so that when I arrived at the hospital she was all clean, dressed in her tee shirt and shorts and had a new hair style. They fed her breakfast, sang along with her tapes and lovingly talked with her. Now it would all be up to Tom and me. The physical care which we had to provide for Kara at this point was extensive.

She could walk, but only if someone took her arm and supported her greatly, and then only for about 200 feet. She could sit in a chair, but only if someone helped her into it and out of it. She could drink from a glass, but only if there were a straw in it and someone guided it into her mouth. She could use the toilet, but only if we undid her pants and helped her onto the toilet. She could eat, but only if someone put each spoonful in her mouth. She could enjoy our company and follow our conversations, but she could not entertain herself.

But there was more than just her physical care that I was going to miss. With Kara’s room being right across from the nurses’ station, I only had to poke my head out the door to have instant company and conversation. It resembled living in a college dormitory where there was always someone available with whom to have fun. Those nurses were smart because about two weeks before Kara’s discharge date, Kara was moved to a room down the hall. I came to the hospital one day to find a stranger in Kara’s room. Someone was sicker than Kara and needed the special attention that was afforded the patient in that room. “So,” I joked, “the next move is out the door.” It wasn’t really a joke because I knew it was true. Our hospital neighbors asked us, “Did you move to a more up-scale area?” and I would answer, “Yes, we didn’t like our old neighbors.” I was hopelessly addicted to the routine and personality of Maine Medical Center and by moving a little closer to the door, I was being gently weaned from what had become my little world. I needed to develop new routines for our family, and I had to reinvent a new world where Tom and I were the primary care-givers for our daughter.

I was not going to have instantly available emotional support and I knew that I was going to have to rely much more upon my own inner strength. I was scared because I wasn’t really sure that I could do this.