poured out before bed
There is a slight tremor to the hands she has bent to knitting while gazing primly at her husband. She knits and pearls quietly, fluidly, her posture impeccable, as I complete Mr. Jones’ discharge exam and answer his questions. She listens attentively, never missing a stitch as I describe his new medications and how they should be taken, takes note as I write out how to assemble his weekly pill box and place his medications for the next month in the boxes pharmacy has provided. She nods demurely as I list the scheduled follow up appointments and referrals, place a printed list on the table next to her.
“It’s also really important that you walk as much as you can between PT appointments. Every step you take you get a little stronger,” I smile encouragingly at Mr. Jones, who takes my hand and shrugs. “And your lovely wife will help to keep you moving, I’m sure.”
Mrs. Jones clears her throat, adjusting the high necked collar about it, sets her knitting aside and stands to gather her husband’s things. She pats her ivory permanent and looks at me sweetly.
“Oh, I’ll keep him motivated. I’ll just get naked in the dining room and invite him to chase after me. That always works,” she says, her tone a fantastic matter-of-fact.
“Come along sweetheart,” she helps Mr. Jones to his feet. “We’ve got work to do.”
He pecks her on the cheek as he transfers to the wheelchair and winks at me as the orderly wheels him from the room. The slight droop to his left face is unable to hold back a broadly cheeky grin.