I love to shake hands and will go on as long as you will keep shaking hands with me, up and down, up and down, back and forth. It is like a baby being happily dandled on its mother’s knee. Sometimes when Paul comes and we shake hands in the hallway, I don’t want to let go so he can get in the back of the wheelchair to push me to my meal. So, what we’ve worked out is that Paul walks down in front of the wheelchair with his arm out to me, and I hold on and I roll down the hallway behind him, like a chariot in tow.
Kathy (one of the nurses here, a very nice person) reports to Paul that I was singing a soft song earlier this afternoon, shaking hands with her in time to the music, very happy with it all.