Talk About Stupid Living

That's what Dad said about living at deluxe, first-class, Judson Retirement Home, whose motto is "Smart living". 

Primary example is a battle he lost: he suggested that a Porte-cochère be added to the main entrance. It is the front door to the community center and main entrance to many living units along one half mile of hallways, in 5 buildings, connected by enclosed bridges. I could check with my sisters to see how far from a car drop-off-point to the front door it is, maybe 30 or 40 feet. But it's a long hike, on a walker, uncovered, in inclement, Northern Ohio, Lake effect, weather, unheated sidewalk, up a sloping, for handicap access, walkway. 

Now that is stupid living.
He got drawings and estimates from contractors to cover it. He kept meeting resistance, so he kept streamlining the design, shortening the walkway, reducing the costs, all with no success.
A couple of successful improvements he got implemented, include: blinds that could be lowered against the setting, blazing sun in the dining room, translucent so you can eat dinner without dying of sunstroke and could still see the wonderful view across the pond (he had numerous water lilies planted in that pond, at his own expense); covering an outdoor dining area and adding similar blinds to that sitting area, allowing diners to enjoy that same Northern Ohio weather and nearly doubling the capacity of the restaurant for half the year; convincing the management to leave open the doors at the entrances and exits to those enclosed bridges, because once you pushed the automatic-opening button you had to leap back three or four steps so you didn't get bonked by the opening door.

He was working on an individual apartment-unit humidifying system, which Judson did not include when building this huge complex. On a personal level, he had the legs to his loveseats lengthened so that he and his friends could get in and out of them still. 

You get the gist.
Today at Mass General, I had a couple drains removed, half actually, one from each side and was commissioned a compression bra. It was quite a complicated process as the doctor rejected the original one the nurse had left for me. It was an 3X, which, thank God, he thought was going to be way too big for me. So she brought back an XL, which he thought would be the correct size. Well that didn't go around my rib cage so she tried the 2X next, which also didn't reach around my rib cage. So she had to finally get the 3X, which does fit the rib cage, but does nothing to compress the reconstructed breasts. 

I've already thought of ways to modify the bras:
Velcro extenders for the rib cage; inflatable packets or just extra pads for the cups; Velcro tabs to reduce the size of the individual cups.
Velcro is everywhere else. I mentioned the rib cage, but it also extends up to the bottom of the clavicle. Plus there's Velcro to adjust the length of the straps, which makes me look like a relative of the hunchback of Notre Dame.
This is MGH, a premier hospital in the world. The doctor doesn't know he's issuing me a non-compressing bra?
I'm impressed with the doctor, but the systems are pretty inadequate at MGH, at least some of them. Another instance: I was issued the "Jackie" and a lanyard.
First thing the doctor said today is don't use lanyard, it holds those bulbs far too high for you. They don't drain properly. He didn't know they were still issuing them with the Jackie's, of which he has a higher opinion. What the F? I switched to the lanyard for most of the last 10 days of recovery.
By the way, the other thing that he criticized was my placing the clutch of bulbs on my clavicle. Don't put anything on your chest. 

You're moving too fast. Move like a sloth. 

That almost is unimaginable to me. Though slothful in some ways, motion is not one of them. The worst news is that means that I can't drive yet and I can't get Dexter back tonight as planned.
Later, Demi and Rob dropped over and brought soup and chocolate. She's just gone through the same thing and has a cute short hairdo growing back in now. The worst thing she told me was her toenails just fell off. Mine are turning black and I look forward to what else they'll do. 

I decided to call the plastic surgeon to let him know the bra is not compressing anything but my ribs. His assistant Rachel told me to go buy something, dammit, available in the "as seen on TV " section at Target. It's a sports bra that comes in different sizes and will actually do the job. Bed Bath and Beyond also sells it and maybe Walmart. 

Yes, other people have had the same issue.

Probably Medicare doesn't want to pay for adjustable bras. 

So much for my revolutionary ideas.