By Muriel Lilker
Didn't they know that? Not the friend who whisked in with a gorgeous azalea plant.”This'll cheer you up,” she assured me. “Just be sure to give it plenty of water when the soil is dry.”And off she went, leaving me in a wheelchair that I still had problems maneuvering. I could just about manage to get out of my room in the morning, but only if the man who mopped the floor didn't get there first. Then I'd have a clean floor, but I'd get to breakfast after all the bananas were gone.So how was I to get around my bed and over to the windowsill where the new plant sat? Even more important, could I do it while the plant was still alive? I'd try a dry run. Could I manage to wheel around the bed? Twenty minutes later I had my answer. I couldn't. Furthermore, there were 18 new scratches on the bed from even trying.Can a plant look beautiful and worried at the same time? The azalea did. It suddenly realized that even if I did get over there, there was no way I could bring water with me. Not unless I suddenly sprouted a third hand. Which was as unlikely as a nurse coming to its rescue.Still, it tried. “Ring for the nurse!” the azalea ordered.Not a chance! Not when all that moist soil was still packed around it. I didn't have any moist soil myself, and had to save the nurse for when I was parched.Was it any easier with cut flowers? They seemed to be warning: “Don't expect us to keep on looking glorious if you don't change our water.”Change the water?! I couldn't even change my socks! I had to be in therapy for at least two more weeks, and if I did try to stand up on my rotten leg, I might undo all the work they'd done by now.Which meant I had two worries: One, how long would it take for my broken leg to heal? And two, would I get out of here before whoever gave me a plant or flowers visits again and sees her present languishing on the windowsill?Which brings me to ground rules for anyone who brings a plant or flowers.Prepare to visit every other day so you can water it before it dies.Or, DO NOT pop by two weeks later when the parched plant is wishing it were somewhere else and has traded in its once entrancing pink flowers for dried yellow buds.In fact, if you really want to make me happy, how about bringing some cookies or candy. That way I can share it with the nurse. Hey, maybe then she might come on the first ring. With some juice instead of water.Reach contributing writer Muriel Lilker at news@timesledger.com
