Got home a few hours ago, gazed in wonder at the kitchen, unloaded the car, stood around in the kitchen just staring at it for a bit longer, ran out to the store to grab some dinner (take 'n' bake pizza), came home and used the new oven (we're cookin' with gas, now!), and discovered in a phonecall to my grandmother that the hospital tried to send her home today.
The frustrating thing is that I was just there yesterday... if we'd known they wanted to send her home that quickly, I could have just stayed. As it is, it looks like she's going to be getting released next week instead of two weeks from now. On one hand, there's a good reason for it... she's recovering very quickly and making excellent progress in her physical therapy. OTOH, she's a 75-year-old woman who just had major back surgery and lives alone unless one of us *cough*me*cough* arranges to be down there to help her. I'm not entirely sure what the hospital was thinking, telling her at the last minute "oh, and you're going home today" no matter how well she was doing on the stair-walking part of her therapy.
Fortunately, she was stubborn and dug her heels in (her sister-in-law is a nurse and told her ahead of time not to let the hospital release her too early) then called her doctor, who apparently had a bit of a conniption over the whole thing... hence the one more week in the hospital. However, this means that my two weeks home (during which I intended to spend most of my time in the kitchen grinning a lot and occasionally saying "it's so purty" to whoever happened to be listening) has suddenly become one week home, and I'm now really hoping the weather clears up. The roads weren't horrible on the way home, but they weren't fantastic either.
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