I usually love autumn
But this year I'd have preferred to go from August straight into November.
My dad went in for surgery on the first of September for a serious, but treatable condition. After some serious, but treatable complications, it looked like he was on the road to recovery by the last third of the month. Then something weird happened, and he ended up back in ICU, on a respirator and in a light coma. My sister and I were a bit relieved for the coma because he HATES being tied to the "torture devices" and he needed the respirator to heal. But my mom didn't deal with it quite so logically and so by Oct 2, she was convinced that he was going to die and she called her girls home.
He woke up completely the day I got back to Wpg (Oct 4). And was off the respirator the next day. Sis and I roll our eyes at Mom's panicking but we were both glad of the excuse to put our lives on hold. Dad hadn't been seriously ill since before we were born, so for him to be over a month in the hospital was unnerving. And we like to think we kept him from succumbing to terminal boredom while we waiting for the doc to spring him. We took him home last Friday, so I got to spend the weekend seeing that he was settled and confirming that being at home really was the best place for him to recover. He's getting stronger every day. Stubborn old Swede. That's three near death brushes in one lifetime; next time, he'd better lose an eye! (Not creepy as it sounds if you know Norse mythology. *thinks* Possibly knowing the myths would make it creepier, but in a different way. *decides to live dangerously and not delete this line of thought*)
The conclusion is: I'm home! I will catch up on comments tonight and hope to be focused enough to get back to writing tomorrow. Unless I sleep. That plan worked well today.
My dad went in for surgery on the first of September for a serious, but treatable condition. After some serious, but treatable complications, it looked like he was on the road to recovery by the last third of the month. Then something weird happened, and he ended up back in ICU, on a respirator and in a light coma. My sister and I were a bit relieved for the coma because he HATES being tied to the "torture devices" and he needed the respirator to heal. But my mom didn't deal with it quite so logically and so by Oct 2, she was convinced that he was going to die and she called her girls home.
He woke up completely the day I got back to Wpg (Oct 4). And was off the respirator the next day. Sis and I roll our eyes at Mom's panicking but we were both glad of the excuse to put our lives on hold. Dad hadn't been seriously ill since before we were born, so for him to be over a month in the hospital was unnerving. And we like to think we kept him from succumbing to terminal boredom while we waiting for the doc to spring him. We took him home last Friday, so I got to spend the weekend seeing that he was settled and confirming that being at home really was the best place for him to recover. He's getting stronger every day. Stubborn old Swede. That's three near death brushes in one lifetime; next time, he'd better lose an eye! (Not creepy as it sounds if you know Norse mythology. *thinks* Possibly knowing the myths would make it creepier, but in a different way. *decides to live dangerously and not delete this line of thought*)
The conclusion is: I'm home! I will catch up on comments tonight and hope to be focused enough to get back to writing tomorrow. Unless I sleep. That plan worked well today.