Chapter 44 - my mother forced me to practice the rules at home
Mom needed rehabilitation.
She hated that.
Dad wanted her home immediately.
I wanted the safest clinical option.
Mom wanted everyone to stop deciding before asking her.
Again.
She sat in the hospital chair.
Walker beside her.
Three competent adults arguing around her like she was a contested asset.
Finally:
“Shut up.”
We did.
Mom looked at me first.
“What do I want?”
I laughed despite myself.
“I don’t know.”
“Progress.”
She looked at Dad.
“What do I want?”
He sighed.
“Home.”
“Wrong.”
His face collapsed.
Mom smiled.
“I want rehab.”
“For two weeks.”
Then home.
Dad stared.
“You hate rehab.”
“I hate falling more.”
Simple.
I had spent years building institutions around consent.
Then nearly missed it at the bedside.
Mom entered rehabilitation.
Chose the facility.
Read the medication plan.
Corrected another chart note.
Complained about mashed potatoes.
Recovered.
When she came home, Dad installed three grab bars she had not asked for.
Mom made him remove one.
They argued for twenty minutes.
May you like
I left.
Some justice systems should remain local.
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