Good news: it looks like Bob will be home Monday night.
Bad news: when I called the in-patient rehab center a month ago and asked what items I should buy for Bob's convalescence, the admissions officer reassured me that the physical therapist would order those items for us and we'd go home with them. Today I found out from the occupational therapist that's true, but there are a few items that I am responsible for.
I got this information after taking most of the week off, at 4:00 p.m. on a Friday, regarding hospital supply stores that are only open Monday through Friday. For months I've been so careful to ask all the right questions and prepare as thoroughly as possible, but I got bad information.
I lost it. I stared at the occupational therapist and blabbered, "I'm the only family he has. I'm the only one here. I've been on all week. I can't take any more days off of work. I can't go buy stuff on Monday. I have to work." I confessed that I hate driving, I don't want to drive anymore, I don't know how I'm going to do this. She was sympathetic, but what could she do? She can't make these places change their business hours.
I told Bob that it's time to call in one of those favors that everyone's been offering. One of our friends who has told/written me in the last month, "Let me know if there's anything you and Bob need" will have to go to one of these medical supply stores for us. I just can't take any more time off work.
In the parking lot before I drove home, I wept, defeated. Halfway home I stopped at Jewel and bought two packets of Ho-Ho's and one of Twinkies. I ate them in the parking lot.