Speaking Too Soon

I should rename my blog “MCF's Father of Improbability”. I have this habit of saying things like “everything is going to be okay now” or ‘that wasn't so bad”, and that usually backfires on me. Apparently, I have the power to affect my immediate family as well, so perhaps I should move on to other topics soon.

My dad was supposed to be discharged by 4 PM on Friday, free from a nearly two week hospital ordeal only to spend another 2-6 weeks in a nursing home on antibiotics, also receiving therapy for his arm, swollen and immobilized from the lack of a rotator cuff and the damage done from his infected shoulder wound. They installed a shunt in his arm to make hooking up an IV much easier. Then they did an x-ray to make sure it was in correctly. When the ambulette driver arrived to pick up my father, the x-ray results came back, showing the thing was in wrong. So they had to adjust it, and make the driver wait. Then they found out the paperwork wasn't complete and the nursing home didn't have the antibiotic yet. So the hospital had to get one of their bags and send it over with my dad.

Somehow, the whole mess got sorted out, and by 7 PM I was wandering in to a nursing home with no idea where my parents were. Outside, two old men lounged in wheelchairs and smoked cigarettes. I suppose at some age, quitting a bad habit becomes moot. Inside I found no security, and a decor that was a cross between the Overlook Hotel from The Shining and the hospital from Silent Hill. The front office was closed, with a sign advising visitors to take the elevator to the first floor and find the supervisor. I found an empty office, and various rooms with the elderly napping, staring, or both. In an alcove, I tried calling my mom's cell phone which to my surprise, was on. But she didn't answer, because she apparently didn't know how. I couldn't leave a voicemail, because her inbox was full. I'll need to show her how to empty that. But, I discovered that she had left me a message as I was calling her, and the room number she gave me was about three doors down from where I was standing. In a movie about my life, I would totally have filmed that scene from outside so people could see through the windows and see how close we were when making our calls.

My dad was sitting up, impatiently wondering when someone was going to get him antibiotic. I've never been happier to see him impatient; he's now gung-ho about getting healthy and getting out of that hellhole. I feared a Ben Stiller in Happy Gilmore orderly might be lurking. Instead, a nurse walking past the room did a double take, said, “Oh THERE you are!”, and informed us we were in the wrong room.

In the correct room, my dad's roommate slept by the window, his television blaring. After a while, as my mom held the collar of her sweater close to her nose, I began picking up a scent, kind of a mix of urine, dead animals, and some kind of industrial strength cleanser. It was worst in one particular corner, and didn't seem to be coming from the roommates side of the room. In the hall, there was no scent at all. My dad, thankfully, has no sense of smell and sat oblivious to what was upsetting my mom, who kept asking, “What have I done?” over and over. I was a bit concerned with the place as well, but reassured her that the smell was something that could be handled, and would not be indicative of the overall experience.

Cyrus, the chief nurse, stopped by to interview my dad, and immediately picked up that something was wrong. We pointed out the smell, which he didn't notice, or admit to noticing, but he acted quickly in having one of the staff contact a janitor. Meanwhile, he pulled a hamper from the corner of the room, and took a look inside. “What is that?” he wondered aloud, as I silently wondered if there were forgotten soiled garments, a dead rat, or some horrid combination of the two. In any case, the smell faded once he removed that container, and the janitor showed up to mop the entire area, threw down some powerfully strong blue stuff, and pretty soon had the place smelling clean. I meanwhile, in my infinite improbability, rued ever making the case that a nursing home would be a more sterile environment in which to recuperate than our house. My dad, surprisingly, was in favor of giving the place a chance. “I can't give up after just an hour,” he reasoned.

I have to say, once the smell issue was resolved, and we had a chance to speak with Cyrus, I felt a bit better. He was very thorough in his interview, and patient when my dad couldn't hear or understand some of the questions. At one point, one of the nurses took my dad to be weighed, and exclaimed, “Oh, he walks GOOD!” I have to believe she either deals with a lot of old people who aren't so fortunate, or that she didn't check the chart to see that he was in there primarily because of a shoulder problem. If she only knew the man walks for miles with various bands, sometimes as long as twelve hours at a time.

I'm a little afraid to say things are looking up, or that everything is going to work out fine. I have to stop twisting probability. It doesn't matter if I get hurt, but I can't be responsible for the misfortune of others. My mom seems more shaken up by the whole thing than my dad, who seems happy to be out of the hospital and hasn't realized he's in a hospital from the 1970s, complete with non-electric beds that adjust using cranks. He'll have the use of a gym and meet regularly with a physical therapist, who will assess his capabilities, and that at least is one thing he wouldn't have here at home. When we left him, he looked comfortable in the bed, and hopefully will be able to rest a little easier. My mom insists she won't be able to sleep while he's there, and keeps beating herself up over the decision, while I remind her that she won't be any good to anybody if she doesn't take care of herself. The nursing home didn't make the best first impression, but we'll see in a few days whether or not we're going to stay on this course of action. As for me, I'm going to do my best to cut back on my jinxing predictions. I think we all know how that is going to turn out...