Discombobulated

It's been a few days since my last post and they have been harried and, well, discombobulated days.  I spelled that last adjective the way it sounds because I have never seen it in print.  It's one of those made-up words of my mother's generation that sounds the way it feels.  Bill came home from the hospital on Wednesday and is continuing his recovery at home very well.  The only snag is he has acquired the 'wait on me hand and foot' syndrome so common to men who have had their meals delivered to them daily, their bed linens changed daily, smiling women in colorful uniforms offering to fill their water glasses and get them extra Italian ices, etc., etc.  I have pointed out that the establishments that do this, i.e.: hospitals and five star hotels, have two things in common.  One, they each employ rotating shifts of many minions and, two, they charge enormous sums of money for the service.  I am a staff of one and I don't rotate seamlessly through the 24/7.  In addition, I have had to return to full-time work.  The religious education program I run for some 380 children begins with five Parent/Student Orientation sessions this coming week: late afternoon and evening sessions on both Monday and Tuesday and a late afternoon session on Thursday.  All has to be in readiness for the program.  So I put in an extra long day on Tuesday and again on Thursday with a half day on Monday and Wednesday and split my day-off on Friday between taking care of Bill, catching up on housework that has been ignored while spending 8-10 hours a day at the hospital and periodically collapsing pathetically on the couch.  I have pointed out to my darling husband that if he fully intends to return to work on Monday since the doctor's said he could "if he was feeling up to it" ... well, to put it bluntly, he should test his readiness with a few walks, starting with the one from his rocker to the refrigerator and culminating in some ambles around the neighborhood.  He should also attempt a few short trips in the car.  His workday is bracketed by a one and a half hour commute of car-ferry-shuttle bus-short walk to the office and I don't think he should attempt that marathon twice in one day without a bit of training.  And the car part of it is no picnic: 40 miles on the Palisades Parkway  and then the wild ride down NJ's River Road during full rush hour mode.  You have to understand that NJ and NY drivers are natural enemies, having completely different styles and philosophies of driving.  Putting both breeds on the same roads tends to create moments of extreme stress and high drama interspersed with the sheer boredom of traffic standstills.  I think my husband should either wait a few more days before returning to work or start with half days so that the return commute, at least, will not take place in rush hour.  The home-bound rush hour, a misnomer if ever there was one, extends from 3:00pm to 8:00pm here in the congested NYC metropolitan area.

I anticipate, as the coming week progresses and my husband's recovery continues, this blog will be less and less about my personal angst and return to the mostly stitching blog it normally is.  Thanks for your patience with me, writing all the worries and complaints down keeps me from spewing them all over Bill who doesn't need the added stress.