...the sale (of the house) is off. I guess our realtor really lit into the one representing the buyers. Apparently, she handled this thing all wrong.

We're going ahead with the garage sale, b/c it has to be done and we already ran an ad.

John has food poisoning, or whatever it is you get when you eat meat that you later find out has been recalled for e-coli contamination. Fun times. Send him good thoughts, okay?

We are gearing up for the garage sale at my dad's house this weekend (Thurs - Sat). I have no idea what to price a lot of this stuff, and there has already been some advance interest. Not early birds* -- they aren't allowed -- but SIL-C listed some examples in her ad and has been getting emails about the Craftsman Rolling Cabinet and electric scooter.

The cabinet is one place we're stuck. We have no idea what to ask for it. It's beat up, but once you open the doors, it's in pretty good shape. There is one like it here, plus a smaller one that may be a different brand. There are also two big ones at the place up north. We aren't so worried about the latter, because we'll probably be having an auction, but many people seem to want the big red one that's in the garage.

Does anyone out there know about this kind of thing? It's approx 46" tall (not including wheels) x 48" wide x 24" deep. I think it's a 13-drawer model, but is missing 2 drawers.

I'm going to upload a bunch of pics to a new Flickr account I created for extraneous stuff. If anyone has input, it would be appreciated.


There are also oars (but we don't think they fit any boats we have), paddles, at least one left-handed bow, a big pile of ice fishing rods, cross-country skis. etc. Oh, and books, cast iron skillets, and much more.

I'm having to restrain myself a great deal to keep from taking this>>

Isn't it cool? I thought it would look really neat in a garage/workroom, cleaned up/repainted, obviously. The phone is still inside but would probably need to be replaced. The key works, too.



*Early birds are people that show up before the posted start day/time. Some are pretty pushy, but we've all agreed that they won't be let in.

So, the sale is back on again. (?) I'm not holding my breath. What we've been told is that a daughter (doctor) is buying the house for her parents, or is putting down the downpayment for them. They love the house. They want the house. I think her latest ploy was to get us to lower the price even more, or offer concessions. We did offer a little, but not as much as she wanted, so she took her ball and went home. Then mom and dad got into it with her, got the other siblings to lean on sis, and the sale is on again. But she still hasn't signed anything, so we'll see.

We got a lot of stuff cleaned out of the garage and donated. There are several things we'll be selling, including skis, a canoe, bows, oars, fishing poles and a new poker table-topper thingy with a set of nice chips.

Now, John and I are going to eat some ribs and watch Tobor the Great.

SIL C - this is about Dad. You may not want to read yet.

Immediately after learning of my father's death, we were faced with decision #1: organ donation. It's such an awkward approach the staff has to make. In our case, there wasn't quite as much urgency, since none of Dad's major organs were in good shape. We were told that maybe - and only maybe - his corneas could be used, although I agreed to them taking anything they could use that wouldn't affect the viewing. So, less than an hour after saying our goodbyes (he was already gone), I spent what seemed like hours on the phone with the Gift of Life people. Well, one person. I've already forgotten her name, but she was very respectful. But oh, the questions she had to ask! Every surgery I could remember, every drug taken, every hospitalization, the really awkward STD questions. And I found myself wondering: Is this a waste of time? I answered "yes" to every illness except AIDS, cancer and mad-cow disease (or so it seemed). So many times, I wanted to slam down the phone and say, "Forget it, this is a waste of time! He was too old, and had been too sick for this to make any difference."

Well, I was wrong. We received a letter today saying that two women - one from Trenton (where John & I got married) and one from Sterling Heights had each received one of Dad's corneas and were now able to see.

So there. Not a waste of time after all. And it broke through my carefully constructed resolve - I've been trying too hard to hold it all together.

I'm not sure how much energy I have for this, but I wanted to try and get something out there tonight. First off, thank you to all of you for the emails and comments offering prayers and messages of comfort, sympathy and support. The last several days have been a whirlwind of tears, stories, and laughs, as we both grieved the passing and celebrated the life of a truly exceptional man.

His obit and an online memorial has been started here. We'll be adding photos, etc. as the days go by. The funeral home put a little slide show/"video" together to play during the visitations, and I believe it's on the site now. We realized later that we forgot to put his actual job in the obit. He was at GM for 35 years or so. Ooops.

Everyone keeps asking, "what happened? I thought he was getting better." And our answer has been, "we thought so too." But his heart was just done. They took blood that morning (results later showed that his "numbers" continued to improve), and he was transferring into his wheelchair when he collapsed. As far as we can tell, he was gone that quickly, without any pain. They worked on him for quite awhile - against his wishes - but were not able to revive him, at the NH, in the ambulance, or at the ER. I'd seen him the afternoon before, and both bro and I had talked to him on the phone as well, and he'd been FINE, feisty even, so it was quite a shock.

This has been a very difficult time, because there was just no way that we were ready to let him go. But I think he was ready to go. Sure, he had his moments when he was in good spirits and making plans, but overall... he was tired. He dreaded dialysis, which was probably coming, and didn't want to endure any more amputations due to poor circulation. I don't think he quit - he was no quitter, my dad - but I think he might have been grateful to see whichever angel was sent to escort him to meet up with my mom. He knew his kids were settled down with good partners, with good values, etc. We'd miss him, terribly, but he'd prepared us well.

Lots of tears the last few days, for sure. But plenty of smiles and laughs as well, as dozens upon dozens of his friends converged upon the funeral home to say goodbye and share stories. We were in a bit of a daze, trying to plan a funeral just a couple hours after kissing his forehead and saying goodbye. We really weren't prepared - hadn't discussed the topic at all, except in passing - but we did pretty well. I remembered that he'd wanted a piper (don't all firemen?). He'd also wanted to be carried in 15 minutes late, but we decided that most folks wouldn't get it. We would have gone with the bouncer concept he'd mentioned years back, IF he'd left the list of people who weren't to be admitted. As it was, it was just lovely. The funeral director got the right people involved, as well as dad's ex-GF (have to give credit where it's due), and there was an honor guard during every visitation and the funeral: 2 firefighters, standing at attention at either end of the casket, changing every 10 or 15 minutes, etc.

Everyone had their ideas of how they wanted to honor Dad, and I don't think we turned anyone down. It might have looked a little chaotic, but he belonged to so many people. We'd managed to find his uniform and all the right badges and hats. When his fire dept. disbanded in '03, all the remaining members signed one of the hoses. He was the only member to make it all the way through - from beginning to end - and signed it that way, and they were able to coil the hose so his signature showed under the FD name, with the nozzle brass all polished up. His helmet and one of his awards sat along with the hose on the end of the casket. I have no idea where all the axes came from. One of the guys brought his own turnout gear and put it on display. I had two hours on Thursday to recreate a shadow box with one each of his badges from all the departments and ranks, and John made a yellow fire truck to illustrate a story that my dad loved to tell that involved my brother (as a toddler), a new paint job, and a permanent magic marker.

The funeral was yesterday morning. My brother's friend, Roger, officiated. It was good, because Dad wasn't a "churchy" guy, but he'd known Roger for more than 20 years, and used to golf with him. There's nothing like someone who's never met the deceased trying to talk about them, you know? They had fire trucks from a couple depts. parked out front, and a LARGE group of firefighters participate in an honor guard. My dad's old department folded the flag, and one of them presented it to me, barely keeping it together. I just grabbed his hands and held on for a minute, because hugging him would have made him lose it for sure. The piper may have been a little loud for inside (not his fault), but was perfect for outside.

Then, we drove about 190 miles northwest to where my dad grew up, and where my grandparents and my mom are buried. The Air Force was supposed to send an honor guard, but there was a mix-up with the travel plans and we were told they probably wouldn't make it. Well, those guys weren't going to let a silly thing like being given 4 hours to make a 6 hour drive stop them! They got there just a few minutes after we did! A few more relatives were there, plus some local friends of Dad's, and Roger shared a brief message and prayer. Then the gentlemen from the Air Force folded the flag. One excused himself, and played Taps. We were all quite surprised to see that he was actually playing - we had expected a recording. When he was done, the senior officer presented the flag to me again,* and said some nice things about Dad, and how he was obviously a loyal friend, with a unique sense of humor, and pointed out how the way the flag folded symbolized that he was now at peace. And then I lost it.

*I thought we'd worked it out that it was presented to me once, then my brother once (equality, you know).

Dad has been "safely" transferred to the same old nursing home. John and I arrived soon after him, lunch in hand, and got to see the (certified) nurse's aid repeatedly try to take his BP with a wrist cuff*, over his ID bracelet. She tried to get it out of the way, but never succeeded; meanwhile, his other wrist was bare.

A memo to the nursing director has been written. John said, "I thought you weren't doing this anymore." But I did witness it, first-hand. And while I'm pretty pissed, I made sure to report the incident to my brother,** and writing the memo keeps me from getting too riled up (and lets me keep a copy for my files). Here's an excerpt:

We watched her attempt - at least three times - to take my father's blood pressure, using a wrist cuff, over his ID bracelet. She finally asked him what his BP was the last time it was taken. He told her that it was - I believe - 130/60*. She put the cuff part of the way back on his wrist (she did not close it or turn it on), and asked him if 131/60 sounded right, because that was the reading she'd just gotten - it had just popped up on the display.

*Whatever the documented BP was, it was was 1 digit over the one he reported as his last BP reading, retrieved without even completely wrapping the cuff around his wrist. (Next time I'll take better notes.)

This is not an auspicious beginning to what we're viewing as a second chance for D_____ (after Dad contracted the Klebsiella bacteria and was transferred to ______________ Hospital two weeks ago this morning). I hope to see some significant improvements in the immediate future.

What's helpful is that I've been very well trained in documenting almost anything without emotion. This was only an excerpt, but I promise that there was no emotion (except a hint at disappointment), just facts. By pointing out that I'm putting all communication in writing, and keeping a copy, I hope that they'll take it pretty seriously. Having a board of health inspector show up next week (I hope) should also help.

I think SIL C & I are going to visit some other homes on Tuesday and take some pics to show Dad. His ex-GF has him convinced that all the homes have, get this, old people in them,*** as well as elderly staff. Of course, he always takes her word/advice over ours, so here we are, picking up their combined mess (I hate her, but he's still making his own decisions). I found it ironic that the first person that took care of him (the aide) was at least sixty.

*I guess if they're high quality, and used right, they can deliver reliable results. Obviously, not when they're used over an ID bracelet. Plus, I think they bought this one at a drug store. It looked flimsy.

**He visited later, and agreed that the wing/hall that Dad is in now is much worse than the previous time, and said that he witnessed some serious 'tude from the staff, directed at Dad's roommate.

***Hello? Nursing Homes? Seriously, I could shake him this time.

Dad is being released from the hospital (probably today). He is insisting on transfering to a nursing or rehab facility*, but we did at least get him to agree that the first NH wasn't a necessity. Whew! Because of the fun I've been having the last couple of days, SIL C has been orgainizing things.

We agreed that proximity was a "nice to have" but not the most important thing (hopefully that's obvious). We agreed that if no beds were available, that the first place was acceptable IF they met with us and gave us assurances that NONE of the previous crap would be repeated: they'd have to stop focusing on his mental state and only focus on his PT/OT. He does not have dementia. He is confused upon awakening, always has been, especially if you try to talk to him while he's still asleep. Or if he has a temp of 104. There is a good chance, though, that an excellent facility not much farther away will have a bed today.

He is SO much better! This hospital has done wonders for him. Going back to his next most recent hospital stay, the one prior to the NH, he was put on oxygen, which he needed, because he had congestive heart failure and possibly pneumonia. But it was JUST oxygen. No breathing treatments, steroids, that little breathing exercise thing they make you do. Nothing to help get him OFF the oxygen. It was as if they gave up. This place made getting him breathing on his own one of their priorities, and they've succeeded! All those nasty little sores on his legs - gone. Now he just needs to get his strength back. Again.

*He will NOT "burden" the family, blah, blah, blah. We can't convince him it's not a burden.

I'm still not thrilled with the drive, but today Dad said that this was the best hospital he's "ever been in." Usually, someone in the family takes in a bribe for the staff around this time - or sooner - a basket/bucket of candy, to keep them feeling positive about taking care of him. We started the pay-off gift during my mom's first big hospital stay over 11 years ago, after the snarkiness/aloofness of some of the staff made her very sad. The first was a tiny jar of fancy handcream for every staff member that came into the room (Mom passed them out) and several cans of coffee* for the kitchen. They've varied in cost since: sometimes candy, cookies, etc.; once, I made stethescope covers for every staff member that came into the room (for Dad to pass out). Because of the level of care either parent has received, it's never really felt like anything but a bribe - "please don't kill my parent" - with the rare occasion that we've felt an individual requires a thank you. With the dozens of hospital stays, I can count those on one hand, with a couple of fingers left over.

But that was at the other hospital. This time, it was a "for real" thank you gift that I took today: a basket of candy**, with a bottle of "Helping Hands"*** nestled on top. When I carried it in, Dad saw it, and said, "Oh, the bribe gift." And I said, "You know, this time, it's doesn't feel like a bribe. More like an actual thank you." And he nodded. "Yes, it's the best hospital I've ever been in." And that's saying something, because this man has been in the hospital a lot****. I haven't had to scream at anyone yet! It's been a week. I'm not counting Thursday, when the nurse thought I was serious when I asked Dad who I had to beat up to get his catheter removed.

*Of course, someone immediately snarked at him when he took a cup without putting money in the kitty. This after he'd bought 4 large cans. He offered to give her a quarter for the cup of coffee and take the 4 cans home.
**3 kinds of Dove (Milk, Dark, Milk w/ Caramel), mini Cadberry eggs, Sugar-free chocolates & little bags of Skittles.
***From Lush. Supposed to be great for nurses. Wish I'd read the reviews on the Lush site (really mixed)... hope they don't hate it. I got the pump bottle (no risk of cross-contamination there!).
****Oddly enough, I've never been hospitalized. My brother was once, when he was about 10, and that's it for him (I'm 41, he's 39). We all have our tonsils, appendix, adenoids (sp). Now, the people we married... different story.

I have a secret. One I can't publicly share yet, but if you email me, I'll tell you. You just have to look surprised when I announce it later, okay? Some folks already know. Since I can't talk about that, let's talk about my dad, okay?

Have you noticed the distinct lack of rant here in the last few days? Well, that may be because he's getting decent care over at Death Valley*. We still have all kinds of concerns about the nursing home he insists he's going back to (sigh), but really don't have much to complain about with the hospital, except its location in the freaking middle of nowhere. And I'm the only one complaining about that, b/c it's actually closer to brother & SIL's home and brother's work.

Things to note:

•They make excellent omelets (very important to my father)
•The bed is very comfortable and he wants to take it home (automatically-adjusting air mattress)
•They haven't left him on a commode or in a pool of his own feces for any length of time

Like any hospital, they aren't all that great at explaining things, so we've been in the dark a little; but miracle-of-miracles, I was there yesterday at the same time a doctor was. Not only did she have a pleasant bedside manner, but she stopped to explain, oh, everything. They still don't know HOW he got it, but what caused the fever was a bacteria in his blood called cypsela** Klebsiella. He also had "wet lungs" (clear now), which may have been caused by the bacteria, or my have caused it? They don't like admitting what they don't understand. The concensus is that his PICC-line was infected. It's been removed, he's been treated with heavy doses of IV-antibiotics, plus oral steroids and expectorant. He's doing VERY well. The only reason he's still in the hospital is because the steroids are making his blood sugar level skyrocket. Plus, he's back to having some pain, but is otherwise in good shape. All the wounds on his legs (and he had SEVERAL) are healed, except for the 2 or 3 small scabs that he scratched off yesterday in his sleep (bad habit of his).

When I was visiting yesterday, there were a couple of nurses in & out several times. Within the first few minutes, I noticed that he still had the Foley catheter in. Now, he was kind of delerious when they brought him in, so I understand why it was there to begin with, but he's been fine since Sunday. I asked him about it, and he said he didn't know why, and that he'd just asked about it for the first time that day. I said, "well, who do I have to beat up to get it removed?" The poor nurse... left the room and was back within 5 minutes w/ permission from the house doc. to take it out. Oops. Gonna have to tone down that dark humor until it's needed.

One concern, which goes back to the NH, not the hospital: his current roomie was also tranferred from the NH. He has the same bacterial infection. That's kind of weird, right? They only thing they have in common is PT. I'm thinking I should report it, but not sure how, or to what agency. Oddly enough, Dad's first roomie (at the hospital) had also spent time at the same NH, but not recently. He HATED it. He agreed that most of the physical care (PT, etc) is good, but the communication, etc. is terrible.

Tonight...phones will be off/out of reach. John hasn't been able to sleep for a couple of days, so this evening will be about relaxing and getting him to sleep.

Tomorrow... visiting dad early, because John and I are going to visit our new nephew in the afternoon.

Aside...

The PussyCat Dolls (or whatever it's called) show that's on, or coming on soon? One of the girls is the daughter of a woman I work with. IIRC, this is her third such reality show. I've not mentioned the other shows before. My other close shaves with fame here: one coworker rented Bob Guineay's house in Ferndale while she was living here, and another coworker went to a highschool dance with Kid Rock (obviously, this was before I knew her). A non-work friend has a connection to a way current news story, but I don't know if I'm allowed to share it or not.

*SIL C found out why it's called that. It's just he ER - which makes sense b/c Dad said he never wanted to go to that ER - because they are absolutely not equipped for serious emergencies, trauma, etc.

**I swear that's what the doctor said. The only spelling I can can find a result on is "cypsela," but the only results I get are about fruit.

I was just informed that my MOTHER was present in my father's room when he was taken to the hospital at 3:30 this morning, and that she had his wallet and cell phone. Really?

Finding Dad's personal effects has been quite interesting. My brother drove over there this evening to pick up at least the wallet and cell, and no one could locate his things. So he called me to have me get in touch with Dad's ex*, to see if she came by today. Seriously, it's something she'd do - just for safekeeping - but this morning was her grandfather's funeral, so I doubted the possibility. But we had to be sure before we stepped up the "investigation." She doesnt' have it.

My turn to get involved. While bro was on his way to the NH, someone called here and left a voicemail - except that the phone didn't ring**. Since bro was going there, I didn't bother to listen to the message, figuring they'd just called him next, but when he arrived and no one knew where the things were, we went back and listened. It was just a message asking for us to call xxx. So I called and got a real smart-ass nurse on the line. "Well, I didn't call." Well, I don't CARE who called. SOMEONE called. Where's his stuff? I want to talk to a supervisor.

The return phone call was from the same smart-ass nurse: "Your mother was here when your dad was taken to the hospital. So she has his things." "Oh, really? You are so full of shit! My mother's been DEAD for nine years. And I don't think he had visitors at 3 AM. Figure this out, get your supervisor back on the line and find his wallet. Or I'm calling the police." And that's pretty much verbatim.

Five minutes later: "We have his things. They were right here all along." Is his wallet there? "I don't know."

Finally, yes. Wallet and cell phone recovered. Mother not visiting from beyond. They claim to have confused him with another patient. Because I called them f-ing incompetents over the phone, brother is calling to ask them to lock up Dad's things - where they were supposed to be from the beginning - until he can get there.

His fever is down, although he's still pretty lethargic. Big surprise after a fever spike like that.

Supposedly, this NH that Dad's been in is the second best in the county (the best was full up). This concerns me. Worse now that he wants to pay them to hold his bed so he can go back. Sigh. He is a grown-up, and able to make his own decisions. But I wish he's listen to me. Occasionally. Maybe I can get his ex-girlfriend to tell him he needs to go. Maybe he'd listen to her.

*they're buds now
**VOIP, so John got a notice on his computer that we had vmx

Dad's in the hospital. At around 3:30 - 3:50 AM, we got calls: brother got one story, I got another. Dad's heart rate was up (did they treat it w/ the nitro pills? doubt it) is what bro was told. I was told that he had a "mental status change" and, oh, his heart rate is up. He is seriously never shaking the confusion rap that those nurses used to cover their butts the last time he was in the hospital, because who isn't confused at 3:00 in the morning when their temperature is 104°? (did they take his temperature? doubt it)

So even if the staff at the nursing home are borderline imcompetent, a 104° temperature is significant enough to send him to the hospital (even if by accident).

I'd been ill all evening and most of the night, and had been asleep for roughly 2 hours when the call came that Dad had been taken to a hospital (close to the NH) that is affectionately known amongst emergency workers (e.g. ambulance and fire) as "Death Valley" and a place my dad never wanted to be taken. Too late - he was already on his way when they called. When he got to the hospital, his heart rate was fine, but he was out of it (just couldn't keep his eyes open) and he was bathed in sweat. So they took his temp.

We tried to get him tranferred to the other incompetent hospital that at least has his medical records, where his doctors have privileges, but no go: beds were full. At least the ER was basically empty, and they were able to concentrate on him. He'd already had one type of IV antibiotic and they were about to start a second type (anything to get his fever down).

I got kind of dizzy, so brother waited at the hospital and John took me home. I think I've slept for about 3 or 4 hours this time and now have a splitting headache.

However, I just talked to Dad's nurse, and he's still kind of out of it. But his temp is down and he had requested grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup. They don't know why all this happened, but I pray they're competent enough to figure out what it is.

The upside: if he's not back at the NH by 3 AM tomorrow, he loses his bed. Because they scare me.

If you're joining out story late... my dad is temporarily in a nursing home. After being in & out of the hospital several times, he was weak and not altogether healed, so he decided that a stint in a facility would be a good thing. He could get daily physical therapy and have medical staff around to keep an eye on his slowly healing wounds. He's been in for almost 3 weeks and, for the most part, things have gone as expected. We've had a couple of minor issues, which were quickly resolved. But what happened yesterday...another story.

Dad has had the 'flu (again), for almost a week. Several people on his wing have it, and a couple have been hospitalized. This time, it's the real deal: Influenza A, but he seems to have gotten a mild case of it. He's had a low-grade fever, a cough, and not much appetite. I called* him yesterday, as I was leaving my desk (I always do, to see what he wants me to bring him), and he said that he was - at that very moment - being loaded into an ambulance. Why? He wasn't 100% sure, but he thought it was because he was dehydrated.

I've delayed typing this up, because I've been pretty angry, and didn't want to write volumes on the topic. In short, they told HIM it was because he was dehydrated, and told the ambulance drivers it was because he was confused. As it turns out, neither was the case.
Anyway, it's been an interesting 24 hours. I met Dad at the hospital, and heard the ambulance driver tell the nurse that he was transferred for possible dehydration and (I forgot the word, but they meant confused). I look over at my dad, who is way alert, and feelin' fine (except for the cough). They took blood, urine (he wasn't dehydrated, because he produced a full urinal (quart?) immediately) and a chest xray, pronounced him fine (except for some bronchitis) and sent him back, wondering out loud what he was doing there.

In case you missed it, no where do I mention a call from the nursing home telling us that they're concerned about Dad's mental state, or that they're transferring him to a hospital. Yeah, that's because they didn't call. Anyone. The nurse, while claiming Dad was confused, didn't get phone numbers from his file, or the card we taped to his table (just so he can find it), or even his cell phone. Oh, no. She asked him for a number. Not a problem, since he wasn't confused: he told her my home number,** she wrote it on the PALM OF HER HAND, got a digit wrong, and left a message on some random person's answering machine.

While I was at the hospital with Dad, my SIL spent time on the phone with the staff, trying to get to the bottom of it. She did not receive satisfactory answers, let me leave it at that.

As it turns out, the nurse tried to talk to Dad while he was asleep. You can have pretty interesting conversations with my father while he's asleep (with me, too, according to John). Last week, I went to visit him (right after the 'flu was diagnosed). I think he was asleep when I called and he asked for chicken noodle soup, although I'm not sure. I do know he was fast asleep when I arrived. I tried to wake him up, but when he told me he had a temperature of 300 degrees, I knew he wasn't going to be waking up w/o a lot of effort. I left his soup on his table and went home. I used to get him to give me all kinds of things when I was a kid, just by waiting for him to fall asleep: "Dad, I need $100." "It's in my wallet." Luckily for him, I never TOOK the money. I just thought it was funny to get him to give it up. They said he wasn't himself. Hello? He's had the 'flu for a week, was feverish and hadn't eaten in 2 days. Plus, you tried to talk to him while he was ASLEEP. (Sleeping is what people with the 'flu do.)

It's all been worked out. The administration is very apologetic. They agree that he should never have been sent to the hospital, and that the failure to contact a family member was inexusable. I'm still not happy, but at least the person we talked to today didn't get all uppity.

On a positive note, he's lost FIFTY pounds (at least half was fluid). The blood tests that they did at the hospital last night reveal that all of his "numbers" are improved over his condition upon release almost 3 weeks ago. His leg wounds are almost 100% healed. This place is pretty good, but they have a ways to go with communication.

*His cell phone is the only way to reach him
**It was his phone # for 30 years, and he wants it back if I ever move out of the area and can't take it with me. It's the one # he can't forget.

I'm still kind of shocked that I had a pretty decent weekend. The portents at the end of last week were not favorable. We're under a lot of stress right now, and I'm not handling it too well. But I got mail from Cate & J-Dub (wonderful cards from both), and nothing else happened to add to the current load. I don't want to sound too cryptic, but I just can't share everything.

I made up some sleeping masks, and used the first one all weekend (at night, anyway). The original intent was just to be prepared for the next migraine and the inevitable light-sensitivity that goes along with it, but since I'm married to an insomniac, and often need to leave a light on in the bedroom 'til all hours, I tested out my pretty green mask just for regular sleep. And it worked! So, now I'm not only prepared for the next migraine, but I'm also able to fall asleep faster with a light on in the room.

I also had a nice, practically perfect bath last evening. I've not been taking baths a lot lately; because even though I love them, our water seems to be messed up. I could never get enough hot water to make a decent bath and it just wasn't worth using my wonderful products for a 10-minute lukewarm soak. I got really frustrated with it last night. John went to check on the water heater and discovered that the temp had been turned down AND it had been set to half full. Well, no wonder! It either happened when we drained it (ages ago) or when they gas guy turned it back on after the gas leak that shut down the whole street. I delayed my bath for an hour to let the heater fill up and do its thing and then Aaaah. Wonderful, soothing bath. The only thing that would make it better would be a bigger tub. I solved the deeper tub issue a long time ago (or as close as I can in our house). The overflow valve is handy in some circumstances, but not when you WANT to fill the tub almost to the edge! I cover it with plastic wrap*. Sometimes it slips down, but it works pretty well, considering. There is a mechanism that you can buy, and it's not that expensive, but the site had a minimum purchase that was too steep for my pocketbook. Out of the question right now.

Because money is going to be tight for awhile, I've sworn off shopping for things like fabric, yarn, and (sigh) Lush. I have tons of the first two items, so working from my stash isn't going to kill me. I also know how to make solid bubble bath & fizzing bath salts, so that will cover the bath addiction for the most part. . I may save up and buy an occasional tub of the fresh masks from Lush, but will otherwise be staying far away from the store's siren call. First, I'll do some online research to see if I can find some mask recipes that will tide me over.

Dad update: He's doing quite well at the moment. He was tranferred to the medical wing of a nursing home on Thursday. Other than the fact that the food pretty much sucks, he seems happy. I have to make a call today to find out why there is a package of adult diapers in his closet. That's one thing I won't tolerate. I worked in a nursing home in college, and a lot of the times diapers were used just because the staff didn't feel like dealing with getting the patients to the bathroom. My dad is continent, just disabled. He generally uses a urinal, and has to get into his wheelchair to use the toilet. I don't mind bringing him food**, but I will not tolerate diapers if they aren't needed. The poor guy's been humiliated enough. (He's not had one on at any time I've visted, so I'm suspecting they're being used at night.)

ETA: Mystery Solved -- it was a clever, temporary solution. Not to get TMI, but he's been having some extreme swelling which was causing pain and other issues. His nurse got the idea to put him in a couple of diapers and just let him go and go. It worked, and the diapers are just in the closet now b/c they've been billed to him. The conversation with the nurse didn't go to well at first. I asked why, and he said "for convenience." Really, really wrong word to use with me. But once I got the whole story, I was cool. Dad just called to assure me that it was done with his approval and he's totally fine. Whew. He sounds a lot better right now. He has on clothes and is up in his chair, waiting to go to PT. Nice change after weeks in hospital gowns, flat on his back.

Craft update: I've been preparing for niece's craft birthday party (next Friday). I knit up all the projects that the girls will be able to choose from. I'll photograph them and insert them into the little leaflet I'm putting together, then have them available as examples. The materials that I'm providing are in pastel take-out containers (thanks to J-Dub): yarn, tape measure, yarn needle (so far). I glued a ribbon around the outside and added an "I'd rather be knitting" sticker where the ribbon overlaps. SIL C has the knitting needles. I need to get plain barrettes (the first project is a bow). Thinking about scissors, but it will depend on how inexpensively I can get them. The tape measures were on clearance for 50¢ each (one was 18¢, but I don't know which) and the yarn was on sale as well.

I also finished the secret project. I thought I was done last week, but when I went to seam it up, one part was too short, so I undid my bind off and knit for another inch. I can't wait to get it blocked and mail it off!

Three felted sweaters are drying in the laundry room. I am obviously drawn to the greens. The left one has gone through at least 3 times and is just now at a place where I can use it for something. It's awfully rough, so I'm not sure what I'll use it for yet. The right one is cashmere and is going to be fingerless mitts for me (probably just from the turtleneck/cowl alone). The middle one is a great color, but was so scratchy pre-felting that I didn't know if it could be used for anything. Post-felting, though, it's pretty soft and will become a hat for me and maybe a cozy for my tea pot.

*We keep the plastic wrap in the bathroom. In addition to letting me take deeper baths, it also comes in handy when I want lotion on my back and there's no one to apply it (or no one WILL apply it (John is phobic about lotions and anything remotely "greasy.")
**The food is kosher, but I'm sure that's not the reason they served him half-cooked tuna casserole yesterday. Some of the food isn't identifiable, some of it's fantastic. I told him yesterday that I might not make it over there (I was headachy and dizzy), and he said, "but you have to come. I need food!" Turns out I wasn't the only one he asked to bring food! Reminded me a little bit of the Harry Potter book when Dudley went on a diet and Harry put out the word for everyone to send him food.

After a day like yesterday, which was too long and too stressful, how WONDERFUL to find mail for me. I know I said I wasn't going to post, but I had to share. Last week, I wrote about renewing a friendship from way back when. J and I have kept in touch via email (her more so than me, which I plan to rectify today) and our mutual LJs. Just before bed last night, I had a brief flash of memory: hadn't I seen an envelope on my way in? I'd brought home cat food, groceries and dinner, and was a little distracted at the time. I ran back downstairs and there it was! A padded envelope from J!!

Guess who else collects buttons? And she sent a big bag of them for me to play with! I can't wait.

In other news, Dad was finally transferred to the nursing home last night. He's okay with it, but it's not really what I expected, so I'm withholding judgement. One of his neighbors yells "Humphrey Bogart" relentlessly all evening. Although once I realized it wasn't a neglected patient yelling for a nurse, it wasn't as bad. It's really a medical facility, and it has a good rep. We saw more staff in the hour I was there last night than I saw in any 3 visits to the hospital. We shall see.

There are other stressors I can't talk about publicly, reasons for my declaration last night. I hope everyone has a great weekend.

Thanks to all of you who have been praying for, or thinking of, or lighting candles for my dad. Please don't stop.

I saw my father at 6:30 (ish) AM today, and he was wide awake and feeling pretty good. The night staff* took very good care of him. He slept hard most of the night (he hasn't been sleeping well) and had to have his sheets changed** because he was sweating so much (probably still has a mild fever). I was on my way to work, and stopped to deliver a bag of clothes for him to wear/take to the nursing home/rehab: 3 pairs of cut-off & hemmed PJ pants*** with matching tshirts or polos, plus a couple extra shirts. When I saw him, and asked him how he was, he said "great!" The last few days, he's steadily been more like his old self: more talkative and spunky. I'm still worried about his mood, but not as much as this past weekend. I'm envisioning him at this facility, tooling around in his wheelchair, which he hasn't been in for over a week (too much work for the staff), flirting with the ladies and playing cards or bingo with the men (the few who will be there -- these places are usually populated by more women than men).

My back pain is better this morning. I think it's just going to take time. Come Saturday, a hot bath with a yummy-smelling bath bomb will help. :-)

I didn't finish that project last night. I decided to go to sleep early instead, since I had to be up early today. During the hour-long meeting I listened in on from a conference room this morning, I got much closer to completion, but ran out of yarn. It turns out I had a few more than 3 rows. NOW I have about 2-3 rows, which I can finish tonight (more yarn at home). I hate starting a new ball just to knit two rows and cast off, but it must be done.

This weekend will be for sewing. I have some swap items to make, two gifts, a trade item, plus I want to try something from the Last Minute Fabric Gifts book. I haven't reviewed it yet here, because I haven't made any projects. I've planned several (which you can take as a positive review). Of course, I can't get all the things I need today, because I neglected to write them down. If anyone has this book handy, and can tell me what I need for the travel bag/dop kit in the one-hour section, particularly the zipper length, that would be great. Otherwise, I'll have to go to the store tomorrow instead of today.

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*Things can change, but the one thing I rarely worry about with this hospital is how he's going to be treated at night. For the longest time, I had the perception that any night staff was lazy and did as little work as possible. Now, I don't know where that came from, but when my mom was first hospitalized about 11 years ago, it was at the forefront of my mind. If the day staff was that bad, how much worse was the night staff? So, I stayed over, and learned that the opposite was true: the night staff was excellent. Of course, they have less interference, more sleeping patients, no discharges, etc., but that could equal neglect via inertia. However, I've not seen anything like that with any of the dozens of stays my parents have had over the years.

**Yesterday evening, I was checking a sore on his back and realized that his sheets were soaked and smelly (he doesn't have an incontinence problem, but he may have had a little spillage w/ the urinal). I have no idea how long it had been since they checked. This time, though, they caught it quickly and cleaned him up so he could go back to sleep. [re: the sore - it's not a pressure sore, b/c of the location, but it could be another kind of bedsore. He actually has two, between his cheeks, one on each side. I'll be glad when he's at a place that will get him up and moving around instead of sitting on his butt all day.]

***I think these will be perfect for him. Much better than boxers, which I know he prefers, but he'll (hopefully) not be in his room the entire time, and actual clothes are called for. These have pockets and a button fly, plus a drawstring (good, since his weight goes up and down due to the fluid retention).

A. Dad may be tranferred to the nursing home/rehab facility tomorrow. Or not. He's still showing some 'flu symptoms, although the discharge manager/nurse now insists he never had the 'flu. I think he should offer to kiss her full on the lips, then. Or lick her face. Whichever. They want him out of there SO badly that they're double-teaming him. Two separate discharge people (I don't know if they're nurses or not) tried to tranfer him today, despite the doctor's orders, and despite that he's still throwing up and/or nauseated. They still have an isolation sign on his door, but are claiming he never really had the 'flu. The truth is, we all want him out of there. They're on the verge of giving him bad care - at the moment it's disinterested, bare bones treatment.

I took sugar-free Jell-o to him, and a 2-liter of Diet Vernors*.

B. I had a very odd, introspective day. A lot of thinking and bouncing things off of friends. Does anyone else feel guilty if she buys anything for herself and doesn't pick up something for their SO, or anyone else? Does anyone else feel compelled to give up treasured (or just really cool) possessions to others, even if you like/love the thing, just because the other person might enjoy it? And then feel guilty if you don't? (Rather than fix it, I'm just going to apologize for the badly mixed pronouns and/or tenses and just move on.)

C. I'm feeling better about the nursing home thing. The one he's going to is primarily for people just like him, recovering after an illness and not quite ready for home. It's a Jewish home, and it's possible the meals will be kosher. I don't know why it's relevant, except that it's all over their website. I had some helpful comments on my earlier post, and SIL did some research. It turns out the place is not that far from here, and is pretty close to where my brother works. Dad wants to go, and, oh, see A.

D. I came home and finished his birthday present. We got him some nifty PJ pants that I meant to cut down and hem (Dad's a double amputee, in case you're new), but had to find out what length he wanted. As long as he was in the hosptial, there was no rush, but he will need them soon. I think he'll like these: they have pockets and a button fly, are longer than his shorts but not stupid long like pants are. Of course, I have to take them to the hospital on my way to work tomorrow, because if the discharge chicks get their way, he'll be tranferred via ambulance as soon as they can swing it.

E. Weirdness. I pulled a muscle in my back on Monday and it hurt like the dickens. Yesterday, it ached, but there was really no specific pain. Tonight, it hurts almost as badly as it did on Monday. Is it the weekend yet?

F. Finally, knitting stuff: I have 3 rows to go on the secret knitting project! I will finish knitting before I fall asleep tonight. Then it has to be blocked and seamed (that's a hint).

G. Hey! There's a Lush store opening here! (Actually, I think it's already open, at least it is according to the site. But I'm holding out for the grand opening. Whenever I make plans for things like this, something comes up and I'm not allowed to go. This time, darnit, I'm simply not available.)

*Ack. I can't drink Vernors in any form. It's what kids in Michigan got "in my day" when we were sick. It wasn't until I was in high school that I knew there were other kinds of ginger ale (I love Canada Dry).

Before I forget, the Crafty Fun Friday indices (see sidebar) have been updated. Note to self: it's a pain in the butt, so never leave this task for two months again. Yikes! I will probably have to rethink the entire format fairly quickly, as LJ has size limitations for the files. I'd like to find a way to sort the entries automatically, so perhaps a table, stored outside of LJ will be in order. Eventually. In truth, all of the "indices" need to be reviewed. Again, that's something that will happen someday, when I have time to kill.

Somehow, I pulled a muscle in my back yesterday. I'm still confused as to how that happened. I left work, got cat food (two 4-pound bags, since they were out of my usual 8-pounder, which was nothing to lift/carry), went to the hospital to visit Dad (who is doing better), then stopped to pick up Chinese take-out (big disappointment...we need to find a new place). While I know precisely when the injury occurred, I still don't know how. I turned in my seat (something I do multiple times a day) to start gathering up all the stuff (coat*, purse, tote, food, Hancock's bag), and pop! There it went. Crapola, did that hurt me all evening. After I complained about it, and asked for a back rub, John did a bit of careful prodding and found the knot at the center right. I didn't think to take anything**, but applied a heat pack and kept quiet still. Today, it hurts, but not too badly if I keep my motions small. (Knitting doesn't hurt, yeah!)

Speaking of knitting, I'm nearing the finish line on the secret project. I'm in the process of arranging for a trade - a bit of artwork (V-day present for John) for a knitted item - so that will go on the needles and join the turquoise Red Scarf in my tote. (Which I finally took back, and which should be dry by tonight.)

I got an email today from one of my old knitting-at-work buds (no one has the time anymore), who wanted the address for Interim House to send her odds & ends to. It's been at least 6 months if not much longer since I mentioned them, and I'm glad she remembered.

Dad Update: He just called as I was typing this. They're transferring him to a nursing home for a couple of weeks. He's actually okay with it, although it makes me nervous. I worked in one during college, in Grand Rapids, and I can't think of a short-term patient we had that went home. I will have to be diligent about this! Once he's over this infection and 'flu, he really doesn't need that much nursing care. Someone coming in for a couple of hours in the afternoon, almost a housekeeper situation, would really be ideal. Please continue your prayers for him.

ETA: The transfer won't happen for a couple of days. When we talked earlier, Dad mentioned that he didn't mind going, but he hoped they'd wait until one thing cleared up (he's still having small bouts of diarrhea). Oh, do they want him out of there! So badly that someone (not sure who - his nurse or the caseworker who's charged with emptying his bed) lied to the doctor about it. But Dr. M - while having a terrible bedside manner - is no slouch in the details department. Of course he asked Dad the same question (how many BMs today?). The nurse or case mgr. told him "one." Dad said "three or four." Dr. M. says dad isn't going anywhere for a couple of days. But get this: when he goes, they will NOT take his wheelchair. We have to pick it up and, I'm hoping, take it to him at the new facility. They certainly don't plan on keeping him in bed for two weeks?

*I really hate wearing a coat, especially in the car. It comes off the second I can handle the temperature and I end up carrying it into the house.
**It turns out I don't have anything mild, except Excedrin, which has caffeine. My choices last night were caffeine (I wanted to sleep) or serious meds for the migraines, which I didn't have and were too strong for what was happening.

Tee-hee. Dad called a bit ago and said that: a) he's been moved to a new room (not sure why - it's just around the corner, same staff) and b) his care has improved "tremendously." I think the move has something to do with the 'flu and subsequent isolation, but you never know. I know why he's getting better care. Which is sad, because shouldn't patients just get decent care as a rule? Do they always have to be threatened with bad things to just take care of their patients?

John gets mad when they send Dad home too early (to him), but I say, what good is being in the hospital doing him? It's not like they actually CARE. I would like to get dad home, asap. Once he's clear of his 'flu symptoms, he will be sent home (they said so today). Thank God.

Because of last night's troubles, I was a little worried that I was coming down with the 'flu as well, but I think it was just bad food, because no other symptoms have shown up. This is good, since I don't do so well with the 'flu (ended up in ER last time that I remember).

I made it through two eps of Miss Marple, and then switched to TV. I have made a lot of progress on my secret knitting project. Woot! Um, can I have a do-over for the weekend? Just one day would be alright. (I SO need a vacation. At, like, a spa. With a yarn shop next door.)

Heather (milady1) is almost as excited about the Lush opening as I am. She lives in no man's land when it comes to this kind of thing, so I can pick up things for her and ship them parcel post and save her $ on shipping*. J-Dub is also excited, and is meeting me on Saturday.

*Totally - Parcel post is usually far cheaper than Priority, and takes exactly the same amount of time between here and there.

I'm in the process of adding six sets of button stitch markers to the shop.

Sorry I can't post more, but it's been a long day (migraine). Doing somewhat better now (hence the shop update). Dad is also improving, as of yesterday anyway. I talked to him today, but didn't get any news.

A. Guess who is in the hospital again? B. Guess who has already had to lay out one of the nurses?

A=Dad
B=Me (and metaphorically; however, I was willing to take her out if necessary)

What is it with some medical professionals, who think that their schedule, their policies, their feelings are all more important than the patients'? I ended up staying a couple hours longer than I wanted to, just to be sure she didn't pull any stunts.

Dad called this morning around 11:30 or so, and said that his (visiting) nurse was there and had called the doctor, who said he needed to go to ER (usual problem). John went with us, but eventually went home to wait for me to call (only one person could be with dad). Although it took a long time, this was actually one of our shorter ER stays. He seemed to have gotten an actually competent Dr. right off the bat, who ordered blood tests. Mostly it was us sitting and waiting for the results. Dad stayed in his chair*, so I eventually curled up in the ER bed.

Tangent: I grabbed my knitting, my iPod and a book. I know I had both needles when we left, and partway there, because I one of the needles slipped off and I put the stitches back on. When we got to the hospital, I had 1 needle. Hours and hours with no knitting! The book was supposed to be a back up, but it ended up being the main act. Dad liked my iPod, and listened to some music, declaring he wants an MP3 player now.

Anyway, the ER bed was strangely comfortable after a couple of hours in a straight-back chair, and probably also because I didn't HAVE to be in it. Eventually, the test results came through so they could officially admit him and we were on our way.

Normally, this is when I go home. I make sure he's settled and all, but know that now it's down to waiting for this or that, getting samples, etc., and I'm in the way. Plus, if they aren't poking him, he wants to sleep. But tonight was different. I was getting ready to go, and a lab tech came in with several bottles. She told Dad she'd be drawing some blood. That's kind of par for the course, but Dad had other ideas: "I don't want you to be poking me all night. I have a PICC line, and I want you to use that." (Note: because his doctor had told him that he should insist - that nothing else was needed.)

Then the nurse comes in, and this is where I had to get mean. And I was MEAN, but only in response to her nasty 'tude. She actually pulled that "don't worry your pretty little head about it" tone with him, and said that they couldn't draw blood from the PICC line: it wasn't possible. I can't do all the quotes, but I told her that she was full of it, that I'd just WATCHED them draw several vials of blood from his line in the ER. She kept going on about how things were different in the ICU & CCU, and I'm thinking, I said ER. What's wrong with you? Then she tried, well the doctors says... and I interrupted: I don't CARE what the doctor says. He's not technically in charge. And neither are you. My father SAID you could try twice, and that's all the tries you get. Then she admitted that it was policy. Well, I have you there, don't I? Policy is just rules. Rules for your comfort and benefit, usually. Don't lie to me and tell me it can't be done when I've just seen it done, when the nurses have been doing it at his house for a week, and when the hospital staff was doing it 10 days ago on the same floor. "I don't want to argue with you." I'm not arguing. I'm telling you how it's going to be.

After she left: "You're getting a little feisty, daughter." With a big grin on his face.

I got the distinct impression that she was going to do whatever she wanted, so I decided to stay until the blood was drawn. A couple HOURS later, the lab tech came in and dad asked her if she knew the rules. Sure do. Got the vein on the first try. Dad said he was sorry if his requirements had upset her. She said that she agreed 100%, that she didn't take it personally, and that as it was his body, he had every right. (I really liked her.)

The little argument did force the nurse to think outside the box a little. She had the tech pull a bottle from the PICC line, in addition to the one from the vein. This way, if there was no infection at the PICC line site, they could do draws there and not keep trying for a vein.

*Surprise. Even though he really didn't HAVE to be in it, you know hospitals and their policies. He was comfortable, his back wasn't aching, and tranferring would have caused pain. I was shocked that they didn't insist, just because.