Life has become surreal. I spent Sunday morning shoveling snow so we could get up to see my dad in the nursing home. It was a nice day in which I watched a football game with my old man. The evening was a little rough when we had trouble with his demented roommate, who usually just smiles, stares, and only speaks when someone tries to get him to eat. As I sat next to my dad who was receiving his antibiotic drip, my mom let out an “oh jeez”, and left the room. I turned to see the other old man was standing up and pulling down his diaper. My mom got a nurse, who helped the old guy back into his clothes and into the bed. Not two minutes later, he was out of bed and sitting bare-ass in one of the visitor's chairs. I will never, ever sit in one of those chairs again. They decided to wheel him out of the room over to the nurse's station, the better to keep an eye on him. I was really nervous about him knocking over my dad's IV pole. As we sat there, this smiling face appeared in the door as the wacky guy wheeled himself down the hall without the nurses noticing. He got violent when she tried to wheel him away, gripping the door and screaming that he wanted to go to bed. Don't ask me where the energy came from since he wasn't eating. And, after they gave him a sedative and put him back in bed, don't ask me why the accident he had when he was pulling off his pants again a minute later stank so badly. I suppose it could have been worse, and I did feel sorry for the guy, but I'm glad the man's daughter told us he was being released on Tuesday. I'm not sure my dad, or us for that matter, could take a few more days of that let alone a few more weeks. We didn't have a problem with the guy the first few nights, so hopefully it was just a fluke.
My dad meanwhile, cannot wait to come home. I was concerned with the stricter visiting hours. They actually come around and kick us out at 8 PM, whereas the hospital was more lenient in letting us stay until 10. I had been stopping by to see my dad every morning before work in the hospital, but in the home no one is allowed in before 10 AM. “You don't have to come in the morning,” said my dad, “It's not like I'm dying anymore, not yet.” That's probably the most positive thing he's said about this whole situation in weeks, and went a long way toward putting my mind more at ease. I realize it might have been said for my benefit, and even if his attitude has changed he's neither immortal nor in control of his ailments. But I do know that a person's state of mind is important in winning any health battle, and I'm seeing a fire in him that had been absent for a few weeks there.
But, I'd better stop writing about all this before my jinx powers kick in again. Let's get to this week's PHANTASMIC LINKS:
Click Myclofigia once a day to get our city to #1!
MCF is a mild-mannered
artist from the suburbs.
His knowledge of obscure
comic book characters
is more powerful than Gladiator
of the Shi'ar Imperial Guard on
an ego-trip. Able to leap topics
in a single sentence faster than
a speeder-bike on the moon of
Endor, MCF has never written
about himself in the third person
and now dreads the day he
utters aloud the fateful phrase,
"MCF is gettin' upset!"