Oh hai on a bus

[anagramofbrat]

on my way out of New York and back to demanding kitty, adoring Manbeast, and most importantly my own squooshy way too comfortable bed. I honestly don't know when the last time I've been this dog tired was.

Despite the complete and utter exhaustion (I kinda forgot what an ordeal getting back on the regular crohn's pills is and in light of that should probably have waited until next week to start back up) this trip was overwhelmingly a more positive one than the last, probably entirely because of the amount of progress Dad has made since the pneumonia scare and return to Mt. Sinai on my last visit. On the contrary, after a meeting with his rehab team yesterday he's been given a release date of next thursday which is awesome news. Two months of hospitals and rehab is entirely Too Much. Considering how he was when I first went to see him in the hospital in January and where he is now, which in some ways is in better shape than before the stroke, I'm astounded by his progress. The rehab center has a small coffee shop in the basement for its residents, and yesterday we went down together for a late afternoon snack. Dad was up, walking (and not slowly either) with a little help from a walker for his balance, and once downstairs he was being his usual charming pain in the butt self at the lady running the place as well as trading jokes with the nuns on staff. He still loses words on occasion and while he always mixed up the names of his kids/grandkids (and had been known to go through at least five or six names before getting to the right one) that tendancy's gotten a bit worse. Still, for someone who had a stroke seven weeks ago, he ain't looking too bad.

Still I think all of us will be glad when he's out. Well, Ruth'll be more frazzled while he's staying with her, but he'll be if not home, close to it, back in Brooklyn, and I for one will be happy if I never have to take the IRT up the upper east side ever again. Between Mom at NY Presbyterian years ago and Dad ending up in Mt sinai for various and sundry over the years, I've almost never had to be up there for a good reason, and over the past couple of months I've come to utterly loathe having to take the sardine tin that is the Lexington Ave line anywhere and personally can't wait for them to hurry up and open the 2nd Ave line, because goddamn them IRT train cars are NARROW as HELL.

Sorry, veered into subway nerdage for a minute there.

Anyway, I didn't get everything I had to do done this time around (there is just not enough hours/spoons in the day for all the shit that needs taking care of) I do come home with a grim sense of accomplishment with what I did manage to get done. There was something about finally finding, buying and delivering the four silk ascots after two days of chasing them all over Manhattan that was deeply satisfying. I often need to be reminded that I can be deeply resourceful in a weird as hell pinch. I did manage to keep up with my actual job this week as well as pick up a little extra scratch from the fam, so this week will be somewhat profitable, and I just got a notice that my moderately whopping federal refund was accepted and should be hitting my account early next week. Just in time for PAXEast, not like I'm going to let myself spend much out there, seeing as most of my money's kinda spoken for for at least the next few months. Still... kinda nice to know things are looking up on several fronts for a change.... y'all don't know how thirsty I've been for some sunshine thrown my way. But for now I'm looking eagerly forward to boy and bed tonight. Or vice versa. I don't care, it'll just be good to get home.

Gonna catch a nap now.

Comments

[kshandra]

...he always mixed up the names of his kids/grandkids (and had been known to go through at least five or six names before getting to the right one)

*laugh* My great-grandmother was the same way. She'd look at you, and on a particularly impressive day would start with her *older* sister and work her way through every female relative in the family tree. murphymom would always patiently let her run down before quietly noting, "I'm Donna." (She wore earrings with her name on them for a while, good-naturedly ribbing Nana about it; didn't help.)

[jeanettez.livejournal.com]

Glad to hear about your Dad's progress! My Grandma used to tell the story about her cousin Marian, who was "quite old" before she realized her name wasn't "Hel-Marian". Her older sister's name was Helen! ;)