About my Dad

Dad was back in the hospital again. This time, it was for a battery of tests. (Why do they always say "battery"? Perhaps because you feel like you're being assaulted by the doctors and probes and machines?)

We're now beginning a very difficult phase. I've seen it before, and I think I know what's coming, but that doesn't make it any easier. In fact, that makes it much more difficult.

I find great comfort in these verses:

My son, take care of your father when he is old; grieve him not as long as he lives.

Even if his mind fail, be considerate with him; revile him not in the fullness of your strength.

For kindness to a father will not be forgotten, it will serve as a sin offering--it will take lasting root.

In time of tribulation it will be recalled to your advantage, like warmth upon frost it will melt away your sins.

By the way, this is one of those posts that I debated publishing; the German in me hates to reveal anything too personal. I started and re-started it half a dozen times, and ended up deleting most everything I was going to say about what's been going on.

However, I'm sure that those of you know me will read between the lines and understand. I also know that you are the same people who would be inclined to say a prayer for him, and for us. So, thank you.

Dad

"Pops", as my middle brother calls him, is finally out of ICU. After 12 days. Yikes.

So now he's up on the rehab floor, and NOT loving it. He's sick of the food (though if someone brought me food that I didn't have to plan for, shop for, prepare, cook, or clean up after, I would say nothing other than, "Thank you ma'am, may I have some more gruel, please?")

He's sick of the therapists, already. On the morning of the second day, I called. "So, Dad, what was therapy today?" "Oh, the same old stuff." Really, Dad? Second day on the ward and it's same old same old already? OK.

But, I take this for the good. The sooner he gets sick of them and they of him, the sooner he'll be motivated to do his doggone therapy and get out of Dodge.

He's doing pretty well, I'd say. Sharp as a tack, and moving like greased lightning with his cane, even faster with his wheeled walker. They're waiting on a culture from his cath site (and we're hoping against hope that it's NOT staph). I guess they're also still waiting to figure out if they need to do a permanent pacemaker or not.

So, each day when I visit, I look for signs that he's doing better, and so far, I've been getting them. The future is still a big unknown -- but then, it pretty much always is, right?