Merry Go Round Home, Hospital, Clinic, Home. Confusion

 The saga started at the Sarasota Memorial Hospital's Wound Clinic.  A small lesion on my right leg was healing well;  but the big toe was wildly inflamed and infected.

Thus followed surgery for that; with a bonus -  the long overdue insertion of a stent from my heart  to my right leg.  

On one of my furloughs I was sent home bearing a Jackson-Pratt drainage machine with instructions for its use.

Grrh   a plastic tube broke loose as I slept,  causing a flood in my sleep wear etc. 

 Fortunately that was the day for a nurse to be at my home.

Back at the Hospital I was not a particularly good boy.  When given the choice between going home or having therapy I always chose to go home.

On one occasion I chose home.   No sooner had I been there I fell into a sense of deep loneliness.

I went back to the hospital where I had to be treated as a new patient.   I had allowed my stubborn will to override my good sense.  My brother M and my good friend J  knew this. 

By the way, whilst I was at the hospital I had a one hour session with a psychiatrist. He judged that I was perfectly able to make a decision.   (Not  necessarily the right decision)

When at the end I was offered a discharge for therapy I took it, choosing a local facility which has a great reputation.

The food was excellent.  

The therapy was odd and infrequent.  The oddness is that my therapy programme was designed for "frequent fallers" which I am not. Oh dear, 

And I believe that  about four hours of therapy in six days to be infrequent and  inadequate

So I left the programme of my own accord

I needed a generalized programme for post operation participants. I did not need to be set on a machine and then ignored.

I am now at home.   Cooper is pleased.  We take life gently with a few short walks together.

My ambition is being fulfilled. I am well on the way to becoming a Cranky Old Man.