Dad has had me fairly busy taking his favorite foods, the mail, newspapers, etc, up to him, daily. He won't eat the food at rehab, says it doesn't taste good to him. I have been concerned about his not eating, or eating very little, as he has dropped 6 lbs (he didn't have to spare) since he got there. The staff are very good about answering my constant questions on his care and status.
He has had loads of cards, balloons, phone calls, and visitors. Still he is depressed, he just wants to be home, were he totally runs the show. But he has needed to be strong enough to come home, a vicious circle. I've met with his social services lady several times, and finally the other day told her, "He's 93, he's lived a good long life, now do what ever arrangements it takes so I can take him home, soon". He can do PT at home, he can have home help, I can make sure he eats, and he has Willie and friends to help keep his spirits up.
He had an interesting table mate in the dining room. Old P38 driver from a ranching family in Arizona, that went on to keep flying and ranching in N Calif. I have adopted him, he's 94. He has great stories of ranches, and cowmen we both knew. And his flying stories are just short of unbelievable. I have given him our info and told him when he's ready for a breakout I'll come get him.
They are releasing Dad to me to bring him home tomorrow, Sat. He has really missed his home routine.
Things never go quite the way we sometimes think they should... and to stick another spoke in the mix I have come down with a whooper of a cold. I'll get over it, but Dad can't afford to get it. Will do my best to see that that doesn't happen, but dammit! Then I hear from the staff that Dad says he wants to go home because my cooking is the best, and that I will take good care of him. Bless his heart that's more than a bit of a stretch on the cooking...