In Which Your Faithful Narrator Dips His Big Toe Into the Pool of "Normalcy

It felt good to type that title. It really did. I know that the "In Which Your Faithful Narrator..." titles annoy some, but for some reason I really like using them, I'm not exactly sure why, but I do.

Things have come back to normal, for the most part. My father is safely tucked into a rehabilitation center. He is happy and anxious to get going. I think he is relieved that he came through as well as he did and any damage has been "minimal." The power of prayer is evident in his recovery, I firmly believe that. He had his first good shower since Friday and he looked even better after that. His hair was combed and he had on good clean clothes. He was, for lack of a better term, a happy guy.

This incident has made me pause and think about my own life. I don't mean in regards to dying or anything like that, but how I want to live it. Where I want to live, etc. Since I am an only child, the responsibility falls on me. I'm not angry or upset about that, its just a fact that I have come to accept. As a result of this I have to weigh geography and distance in any decision I might make about applying for and taking a library job. I don't/can't go too far away. I don't know when something like this might happen again.

After the excitement of this past week, I look forward to a continued return to normalcy. That, and a nice cold beer.

Dad is officially out of the hospital and now in a rehabilitation center. It is a very nice place, with good nurses, and people. He was released from the hospital about noon time on Thursday and came bundled up in a wheelchair. He looked a bit like a gypsy with a heavy blanket over his head and another one over his lap. He was holding the little radio we took up to him on his lap. He had six days growth beard and hospital johnnies on. He looked like he needed a good scrubbing.

He was able to clean himself up a bit. He washed his face, shaved (with an electric razor, he is on a blood thinner). He combed his, brushed his teeth, and then changed from his johnnies into a pair of flannel pj bottoms and t-shirt. He was able to do it all himself. I helped him a bit with shaving and had to help get one of his feet into the right pant hole, but other than that, he was able to dress and clean himself just fine.

He seems to be able feed himself. There is a little question about his swallowing capabilities, but I think if there is an issue there it is but a small one. He had a therapist come in and do an evaluation this afternoon shortly after he got there. His strength is good, he grip and push, and pull pretty well. His balance was good, too. He stood for about five mintues with no problem. He said he was tired, but that's expected after the ordeal he has been through.

His speech is slightly slurred, but not too bad. I have to tell the folks around him that he does in fact have a Brooklyn accent so its not all slurring! (lol).

I popped in a little while ago, after dinner, and he was sitting in his wheel chair, with his feet on the bed watching the news. He was in good spirits and ready to get to work. I expect him to be there for about a week or so.

The Ernie we have today is so much different than the Ernie we were dealing with over the weekend, particularly on Monday night. He was combative and halucinatory. He kept thinking he was in Pittsburgh and in Rockefeller Center circa 1950. The funny thing is that he knew he was hallucinating and tried his hardest to get himself grounded. He started going through "facts" that he knew: "world war 2 went from 1939-1945," "Hitler, the president, I mean the Dictator, was defeated," "George Bush is the president," "Hillary Clinton is running against him" (okay, he kind of got that one wrong, but he got the gist, if you will.

As I said earlier, the rehabilitation center is good and well staffed. It is fairly new, too, I don't think it is more than three years old. Its warm, which is good since it is roughly 7 degrees outside right now and clean.