I like challenges. But Peter’s shattered femur has set the bar very high.
I am taking it one day at a time. I spend three-to-four hours every day at the hospital’s rehab center. I bring Peter the newspaper, his mail and fresh clothes. He is making progress, but the road ahead seems long.
His caregivers are very skilled. Marsha, his occupational therapist, has been helping patients for decades. I had to look away when he winced in pain as she gently coached him into the front seat of a fake car. Renee, his physical therapist, knows just how far she can push him. They are professionals with the patience of saints.
I miss Peter all the time. I miss our reading the paper to each other at breakfast. I miss him as my co-pilot as I try to navigate Washington. I miss his warm body next to mine at night.
The surgeon says that it will take time, but he will recover.
P.S. Many thanks to 80-something readers for your speedy recovery wishes for Peter