Nothing fun here, folks - move right along...I'm recovering from another 10 hours of driving this past weekend to see my dad. He managed to fall and break his hip a few weeks ago; but he was sent home from the hospital without surgery because the surgeon thought it might kill him. So now he is stuck in a hospital bed at home and pretty much what was left of his mind has gone bye-bye. I brought the 3 oldest with me to see him, hating myself for not getting them up there a month ago when he could understand who they were and could hold a reasonable facsimile of a conversation.
Too late, too late, too late....
I reserved rooms for us in a decent hotel, knowing that I would need a good night's sleep to drive home. Especially since I had been up since 3:30 AM the morning we left, because Susie was still sick and tossing and turning at night. Unfortunately, the other guests on our hotel wing were holding a multi-room bachelor party, complete with running up and down the halls, banging on doors, yelling, slamming doors, etc. ALL NIGHT. I don't know how I managed that drive home on Sunday.
But I did, and here I am. There's no point calling my dad anymore, he can't seem to understand me on the phone. I had been in the habit of calling and saying hi every day. So, in a way, it feels like he is dead, even though he obviously he isn't. I feel guilty, guilty, guilty for feeling as though he isn't really there anymore. "Dad's doing great - he was really alert this morning and talking!" claims my brother. But he doesn't remember we visited, and he's talking about things that no longer exist - his defunct accounting business, etc. He keeps asking to get up out of bed, not understanding that his hip is broken.
So, yeah, not too much fun. But I made more peach jam today and signed David up for a lifeguarding course and did my Tuesday drive to Civil Air Patrol. Life goes on, and maybe that's what feels weirdest of all.