Yup, I came THIS close...

Well, Tuesday the 25th rolled around. The days were passing and I was getting a little better every day.

Look closely and you'll see someone seated behind the "No Parking" sign in the Tony Thwaites wing's entrance. Yup, that's me.

Erlinda helped me walk out there, then took this picture.

Of course, she wanted to have a close-up of me seated there recovering from what seemed like a multi-mile trek, but was actually just down the corridor and through the lobby.

Notice the walker I'd used to get there, and which folded conveniently to form a support. Now I can relate to all those folks who depend on walkers. They're great tools.

Since Erlinda had been kind enough to take photos of me, it was only fair that I, in turn, took some shots of her as she enjoyed luxuriating in the beautiful flowers that bordered the building.

Actually, I took more than just this shot, but I can't show you everything, right?

Isn't she a sweetie?

Sooner or later, the adventure had to end, and I trekked back to good old Room 17, complete with walker.

You'll notice an easy chair on the left. That was an extremely important piece of furniture, because it was Erlinda's bed every night from May 19 when I left ICU, until May 28, when we said goodbye to the hospital.

She slept there every night. She awoke at the slightest sign that I was having a problem. That was self-sacrifice. What a gal! I love her.

Meanwhile, out at the Nurses' Station, the medical team, including Dr. Pencle, was busy handling the tremendous amount of paperwork, planning and case management that is their lot.

On Wednesday the 26th, an orderly (whose name I can't remember) wheeled me through corridors and across outdoor-facing walkways to my first appointment with her.

With Mrs. Bennett, that is. Who is Mrs. Bennett, you ask?

Well, here she is. A little lady with a beautiful smile.

But don't let her sweet smile fool you. She's a tough cookie, who's accustomed to giving directions and having them obeyed.

Mrs. Bennett taught me to play soccer again. She told me to control the ball under my foot, position it, and kick it about 20 feet, where the orderly would dutifully retrieve and return it, so I could do it all over again.

Most of my "shots" were pretty wild, much to her chagrin, I'm sure, though she never said so.

Pretty soon, I wanted out. But she put me through about an hour of various other exercises, then consented. Whew!

Ahh-h-h! It was nice to rest. My friend Errol Wiles visited me, and accepted the task of trying to get my laptop connected to the Internet.

A daunting task indeed, because he simply could not get the computer to establish a dial-up connection.

He scratched his head, consulted with hospital staff, exerted all his patience, and finally gave up after about 60 minutes of frustration. He told me later that the server he'd been trying to reach had simply been down, so no amount of energy could have gotten me hooked up that evening. Go figure. Thanx for trying, Errol.

And there was Mrs. Manhertz, who was always smiling, and who personally arranged for the cafeteria to purchase vegetarian entrees, just for me.

She was a sweet lady who was always making sure that the meals were just right, that we'd had enough to eat, and that we were comfortable.

Oh boy. It was Thursday, the 27th, and I was back in physiotherapy, with the taskmaster in charge. This time, she put me on the bicycle machine.

She instructed me to ride for 15 minutes, then moved on to another patient, watching my progress out of the corner of her eye, and encouraging me to "keep the pace up!"

A-a-a-rgh! At the end of the quarter-hour, I was beat. Believe me, I wanted nothing more than a tall glass of cool water and a return to Room 17, immediately, if not before.

But no-o-o, Mrs. Bennett had other plans. She personally introduced me to the walking thingie, or what's-its-name, and determined that I should spend 15 minutes on THAT contraption.

Ay, ay, ay.

With feet shod with their foot-covers, I did my best, but there was a challenge.

My knees were buckling, perhaps because I'd been mostly bed-bound for 10 days or so, perhaps due to some other reason, but it was tough staying upright.

So Mrs. Bennett and the orderly who had rolled me to therapy (a lady this time), propped me up.

(Guys, I must tell you that I had mixed feelings being supported by two ladies.)

But she wasn't finished! Not by a long shot.

Next she took me to the stairs and told me to climb. I pleaded with her, pointing out the rubberiness of my knees, but she would have none of it.

"Up you go," or something similar, she said. So I did.

Now, you're probably wondering why these two ladies are in such close proximity to me.

May I remind you that standing and walking and climbing was getting very old by this time, and my lower limbs were not in full cooperation with the instructions from my brain.

The ladies were literally making sure I didn't collapse into a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Praise God for them, because I know I would have been a goner without them.

Now I want to show you Mrs. Bennett again, and tell you the absolute truth about her.

This is the nicest lady you'd ever want to meet, and all that "taskmaster" stuff was just Mrs. Bennett doing her job.

Even when she gave orders, you could hear the caring in her voice. She's a great physiotherapist, and I told her so. If I had to do therapy again, I'd choose her in a heartbeat. Mrs. Dionne Bennett, thank you.

I got back to my room at around 2:15 p.m. Shortly after that, Dr. Witford Reid, an anesthesiologist who lives in Avon Park, Florida, came by to say hello.

He was in the island for a board meeting at Northern Caribbean University, and he took the time to visit the hospital in Kingston, so he could encourage us both.