Copy & Paste

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"Hello?"

"Hello. It's the hospital calling. Your dad had a fall this morning, just before lunch. He's ok, apart from a skinned elbow. Sorry to be calling you now (4.30), but we've been busy all afternoon."

"Sorry? What? Can you please repeat that?!"

You would be forgiven for thinking that I had merely copied Tuesday's blog post just to flesh out this blog post. However, I copied and pasted as I couldn't be bothered to retype it.

Yes, I had a repeat phone call from Tuesday. This time I was in the middle of Walmart. (Busted! It was my first visit in about 8 months, and I was shopping for specific ingredients for a bread pudding.) Dad fell again, this time getting out of bed. He is definitely getting stronger; standing on his own, and going for walks with a walker. He's just not strong enough yet to walk around on his own. Turns out, a care aid had forgotten to turn on his bed alarm... which alerts the nurses at the nursing station every time he tries to escape. At least he was wearing his hospital regulation hip protectors. This time he ended up with a skinned right elbow to match the skinned left elbow from Tuesday.

Time for (another) daughter-father chat. Showed him the red button to push for nursing assistance; under no circumstances is he to get out of bed without assistance. If he falls and breaks something... he'll be in bed a lot longer recovering than this short period of time now. I told him I do not want any more calls from the hospital, as it kind of ruins my day, and I have enough going on. Capice? Capice.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

I vaguely recall a time Saturday's were fun... lounge around and read the paper, do a spot of shopping, maybe go for a walk or ride a bike. (Ok... maybe they were a little dull, but that sounds like a good time in comparison!) Saturday's have been days of chores and clearing out stuff for who knows how long. Again... how is it taking me this long? How much stuff is there? To be fair, dad and mom moved from a 3600 sq. ft house to a 1300 sq ft. condo, and now dad will be moving into one room. (I'm assuming, unless we find some swanky high care accommodation.) All those household items have to be moved and distributed somehow. I'm now in the final push to empty the house, and I have to say this is the worst bit. Months and months of making decisions as to what goes where. Now I'm left with a couple of boxes of things and I'm tempted just to toss the lot in the dumpster. Though there are few useful items in there... so I'll get to them... tomorrow.

On the way home, I had the thought that I am looking forward to living out of a suitcase for a while. That way, I can focus on some other aspects of life for a while, instead of stuff, and the distribution of it: charity bin, thrift store, family, friends, moving boxes, dumpster... As I was mulling this thought over, I stepped into my own home, piled high with boxes and items strewn across the floor. One house down, one to go...