“Die?” André repeated. “Oh, no, no, shit. Home two day.”
“Do you mean today?” the therapist continued to probe for more exact language.
“No…ah…Home…ah…home…in two day.”
“That’s better.” André smiled. Ryan went on, “It’s good you’re going home. We’ll have no talk of dying.”
Ryan smiled. André laughed.
”No, no,” he said making a wave off gesture with his left hand.
Then he became serious. “But, but no um. No can…shit. No can shirt, pants, dog, eat. You see?”
Ryan understood what he was trying to get across.
“You can’t dress yourself, care for the dogs, or fix meals.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you, Ry. You know, you know.”
“Well,” said the therapist. “You’ll have a nurse and the O.T. will come and help you learn to take care of your daily stuff.”
“Yes, But, but not night. What night? Alone. No, no.
“What will you do at night when you’re alone?”
“Yes.”
Ryan smiled. Here was the opportunity he was looking for. “Would you feel better if there was someone with you at night?”