As many readers of this blog already know, Karen had a mild (but not negligible) stroke on Monday, Dec. 19. I could write a lot about that and the two weeks that followed—but it’s enough for now to say that she’s recovering well, has her speech mostly back, walks easily with a walker, and is working hard to restore the fine motor skills of her right hand.
She came home this past Friday, and we’ve been coping pretty well. There have been some funny moments. Yesterday morning the kitchen phone rang as I was showering, and I dripped my way to it, wondering who in the hello was calling at 7 a.m. It was Karen in the bedroom—she’d yelled for me, but couldn’t be heard over the shower.
What I want to write briefly about is the love and care we received from so many people during a difficult and scary time—from family first, then friends, and then the extraordinary nurses and therapists at the Johnson Memorial Hospital in Franklin and its Todd-Aikens Acute Care Unit. And especially the large, good-humored woman who introduced herself on Karen’s first day in Todd-Aikens as simply “I’m Mindy Lou, How Do You Do?” It was all capital letters, and a smart mnemonic device—I had trouble remembering some other names, but “Mindy Lou, How Do You Do?” is etched indelibly on my brain.
In the end she stood for a lot of people—therapists like Brian, Laura, and Candy, who had a wonderful story about helping a man regain his speech though he could say only four words, all of them obscenities. “I figured if he could say ‘shit,’ he could learn to say ‘shirt’,” she said.
There were many others—Linda, a day nurse with a great sense of humor; Ginger, Grace, and Kassie, the night nurses; Emily and Stephanie, physical therapists; April, an occupational therapist who helped Karen work with “theraputty” and other materials; Rebecca, the unit director. What characterized them all was their unfailing patience and kindness. And their common sense—no dramatics, no sympathizing, just good-natured assurance that Karen was doing well and would do better.
And always there was “Mindy Lou, How Do You Do?” ready with a hand for Karen to the bathroom, a wisecrack, or a cup of coffee for a caffeine-deprived spouse. There was nothing put on about it. Karen was in a room occupied several years ago by a friend, and Mindy Lou remembered her. When the friend came to visit Karen, she and Mindy Lou struck up where they had left off years before.
Karen has been home several days now, and names are beginning to fade. But I’ll never forget “Mindy Lou, How Do You Do?”
