... we are making headway. Possibly in such small increments as to be not visible to the naked eye, but still moving in the right direction. A magnifying glass or possibly a microscope may be necessary to discern that there is some activity, but it is occurring. I am so thankful for the slightest signs of any progress at all.
The Dr./Hospitalist came in and picked up on all the right clues. I told him I understood she was still an inpatient due to her unwillingness to be transferred. But was thinking that the best way for her to get up out of the bed and on her feet was to get into someplace that would provide more assistance. The Dr., beautifully, thankfully read between the lines.
He began to tell her that the rehab. resources that were located here, in house, would not be the most appropriate place for her to transfer. That she was actually 'not sick enough' to be a good candidate for the program they run here in the hospital. But if she wanted to try some other places, the social worker here would try to find another facility that might accept her. The cantankerous auntie proceeded to laugh, smile, act coy and ask him how soon she before she could 'expect to be moved: today, next month?'
This is the huge roadblock we have been pushing against for a week. After a week of her being opposed to going anywhere except home (which is not an option) all it took was a man coming around. Whereupon she got profoundly cheerful, astoundingly agreeable, remarkably pleasant, effusive, and nearly instantaneously ready to make the move everyone has been encouraging her to make since this time a week ago.
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