THE MARGUERITE CHRONICLES: JANUARY 19, 2018

Eighteen days into 2018, we’ve gotten Mama out of one medical situation and into another.  After spending about a month in rehab, she was discharged last Wednesday.  My sister, Margie, went to pick her up, and took her back to her home near Winston-Salem so I could babysit five/sevenths of my grandkids while their parents went away for a week.  But Mama wasn’t doing well.

In rehab last month, after a week, she was jumping up out of bed like a teenager, and it looked like physical therapy was working wonders.  But a week or so later, she suffered some kind of downturn, and could not longer function at the same level. They discharged her, saying she had reached a plateau.

Yesterday, she could barely follow directions. She couldn’t walk. Couldn’t lift a spoon to feed herself.  So, for the second time in two days, Margie hauled her over to the ER at Wake Forest-Davie Medical Center.  Her right hand was swollen double; she had a fever, and her entire right side was quite weak.  Today, she has perked up.

So, while ago, my cousin texted from Mama’s bedside. The physical therapist was working with her.  “Can you touch your head?”  Mama touched her head.  “Can you touch your shoulders?” Touched her shoulders, too.  “Can you wiggle your hips?”

Mama laughed.

“I can if the right man is around!”