"He looks good," I thought to myself, knowing that after he was discharged there'd soon be another patient assigned to the room, and I'd be doing the usual ten pages of mindless paperwork/documentation that goes along with admissions.
He'd had a valve repair done last week and had moved along pretty well after they got him off ventilation. Having been (emphasis on past tense) a two-pack-a-day smoker, an extra day or so on the vent was required before he could breath on his own well enough.
He was flossing while I straightened up the linens on his bed and removed his breakfast tray. I heard him say "Oh, that's going to bother me all day" and when I looked into the bathroom he was picking up a strand of dental floss that he'd just used and discarded. After retrieving this from the waste basket, he re-used it, then again tossed it away.
He tongued his teeth to make sure he'd gotten it all from between them.
