Home? Give me a break. (I hate that word!)

Ah, So this is home? Everything here is maxed out complicated.  Tom, the genius constructionist; the man whose great, great grandfather,Michael Angelo must be the artist who supplied Tom's genes.  Tom is a true artist; he comes and goes as he sees fit--like a butterfly.  While Tom is flooring the apartment with wood, Rhoda is catering to my every need--and I do have a few of them.  Her genes certainly must come from Florence De Nightingale, so gifted is she as a caregiver.  She sees that my sox get on my feet, as needed; she lines up my medication from Sunday to Sunday, and I must have about 30 different pills of various shapes and colors.  When I take them at various times in the day, I haven't got a clue as to what they are supposed to cure in my aged body.  I am amazed that she knows which pill goes on which day and at which time.  I am a man who is blessed with two different walkers and a scooter.  I cannot manage to walker around Tom's machinations, so I use the scooter to get me through them more speedily.   Rhoda is truly exhausted--but I don't know what to do about it, except to do as much as possible for myself so as to take the burden from her.  

.....Well, now it has been decided that I wear an "Alert" button on my wrist and a lock box on the door.  The button will summon the emergency guys if something should happen to me while she's away, and the lock box will contain a combination lock to the door so that they won't have too use an axe to get into the apartment.  Whoopee.  Now I have to have someone holding my hand whenever I make a move.  So, I imagine all of this is good for Rhoda as well as it might be for me. The time may come when I can go back to using a cane.  Being home now is a lot better than being in Whitehall--the rehab facility.  Even the name "Whitehall" sounds Dickensian.  The first time someone came around to take my blood it was five in the morning.  I was awakened from a sound sleep.  I asked the nurse why 5am and she said "...it was on her schedule".  I told her to remove it from her schedule and come around 8am from then on.   And that was what was done.   

.....Then, strangely, an ANA came around at 4am and asked if I wanted a shower!  I asked her if she showered at that ungodly hour for waterworks.  I told her never again to bother me for showering at that Dickensonian hour!  And that was done.  I had to correct every ungodly procedure so that it served my benefit--not theirs.  After seven weeks, I managed to escape that institution and continued my rehab at home.