I can dream, can't I?

 

So I was visiting Chris at the hospital after his stroke, and was making painful slow steps with my walker along the miles of corridors to the lift.

Suddenly I was met by a rather large robotic sweeper cleaning the floors. He was almost as tall as me, and moved at about the same speed.

I knew that after I got off the lift that there would be a lot more walking to do until I got to my husband's room. And I was already feeling breathless and exhausted.

My fibro was flaring, my knees were hurting and my heart was paining me. Breathing was an effort, so much so that I almost felt the need to hang my arms around its neck and hitch a ride...

I smiled wryly to myself as I pushed the button in the lift to the Avon floor where Chris's room was. It will only be a matter of time before we have automated wheelchairs ready to whisk us to wherever we need to go in these places.

I could just see it in my mind's eye, gladly sitting in one whilst holding onto Chris's sportsbag of freshly laundered pajamas and toiletries for his stay.. 

These robotic AI directed chairs will have to have a name... and then a direction... yes, I can see it now, "Morning, Jeeves! I am glad you are here! Take me to Avon, and don't spare the horses!"... 

As I limped along, I thought how wonderful these chairs would be, but they won't probably be available in my life time... but meanwhile, I can dream, can't I?