“Did you see a gray-haired man in a blue bathrobe at the other end of the hall?” Adelaide asked Ellen, as the elevator rose to the next floor.
“I don’t think so,” Ellen answered, “but then, I wasn’t really looking.”
Did she imagine it, or was Michael Chandler here at Langdon Rehab? Or was it just wishful thinking on her part? A cardiac rehabilitation facility was bound to be populated with gray-haired patients, and Michael probably wasn’t the only one with a blue bathrobe! It probably WAS wishful thinking on her part; she was seeing what wanted to see. Besides, the chances that Michael would be at the rehab facility and on the same floor as she was were pretty remote. Still, it did give her pause.
“Do you know if there’s a patient registered here by the name of Michael Chandler?” she inquired hopefully.
“I don’t know, and if I did, it would be violation of our patient privacy regulations for me to tell you. That’s a real biggie in our training. We are absolutely never to discuss or disclose the identity of patients. You must remember getting that HIPPA brochure when you were admitted,” Ellen reminded her.
In reality, Addie had received a bunch of papers and brochures and hadn’t really examined them very closely. So many of them seemed to be written in ‘legaleze” that she had stopped reading after the first couple of sheets. She did understand the need for privacy, even if it was a hindrance to her in this instance. She’d just have to wait and see for herself.
The elevator doors opened to the second floor and Ellen pushed Addie’s chair out and down the hall toward the sign which read “Patient Physical Rehabilitation Area.” Once they were through the double doors, Adelaide looked around and saw what the EMT who had ridden in the back of the ambulance with her on the way here was talking about. There were various machines in the room from treadmills to stationary bikes, and many other pieces of equipment she didn’t recognize. Of course, she had never set foot inside a gym in her life, but she recognized the treadmills and stationary bikes from television ads.
The remainder of the morning was spent talking with the physical therapist about the need for exercise and an explanation of the activities in which she would be participating while there. When it was time for lunch, she was wheeled back to her room and told that she would be allowed to walk to the dining area and have a meal.
Adelaide studied the map she’d been given and learned that she would need to go down the hall past a dozen or so patient rooms, the medical consulting area, turn left and follow that corridor to the end. It was quite a distance, and she was glad that she had been wheeled around earlier, else she might not have had the energy and stamina to get there.
The cafeteria was more like the dining room in a nice restaurant than that of a medical facility. The tables were set for two, four, and six “customers.” Each table had a decanter of decaffeinated coffee and a pitcher of iced water. Leaning against the water glasses were small menus with the choices available for lunch listed.
Adelaide chose an empty table for four, and perused the menu. As it was a cardiac rehab facility, all of the choices had been pre-approved by the nutritionist and dietician said a notation at the bottom of the menu. Just then, a voice behind her asked, “Is this seat taken, or can just any old fool park here?”
(to be continued) to advance to chapter 7, click here