No Rest for the Wicked

It just doesn't seem right or fair or even reasonable that you don't get at least a little time to adjust to your life once you get back from a vacation.  We hit the ground running when the plane landed at 8:00 with phone calls to Freedom Inn and Good Sam to see where Dad was.  He was still at the hospital awaiting admittance.  When we got there we discovered him in "the basement" in a holding area awaiting a bed.  He had fallen getting out of bed in the middle of the night.  Dad's account was sketchy as he had sustained two large cuts on his head...not deep but about two-three inches long.  He had a bruise starting to form and was pale and disoriented.  We stayed for a couple of hours and then drove home to collapse from our all night flight, exhausted from worry and the trip.  Went back to see him in the late afternoon.  He had been moved to a room on the 8th floor...surrounded by places familiar and head resident from Family Practice, Dr. Ota....that was Sunday.

Monday started with teacher meetings and back in harness getting a library ready for students on August 9.  Bob was back at the office and life was back to our normal frenic pace.  Alaska is fading from my memory as the reality of more packing, more cataloging, more straightening shelves.  Last week is actually a blur...Meetings every day, Grandad at night and exhausted collapse into bed around midnight, only to start the treadmill again a few hours later.  Dr. Wolfry (Dad's doctor) did not want Dad returning to Freedom Inn but felt he needed to go to a nursing care facility instead for physical therapy and rehab.  So by phone for a couple of days we tried to line something up, but by the time we got out of work, the people we needed to talk to had gone home.  Ginna came to the rescue on Tuesday night and ran point on finding a place and getting Dad settled.  We are so grateful for her being able to do this...I don't know what we would have done...So many facilities didn't have room, or didn't provide the care we needed or didn't have the level of care he needs...disappointments at every turn.

Brighton Gardens on Thomas and 60th street has provided a port in our storm.  And has given us respite in the middle of great concern for dad.