So Good To See You

Chicago has never looked so good, even through the prism of toilet water overflow on my bathroom floor. As far as I can tell toilets will misbehave when they haven't been used for seven weeks or so, but that hardly matters. I'm home!

My father is still alive (thanks for thinking of him). Mostly he is alive because he was refusing to sign a DNR order until last week. Dad has had last minute angioplasty, an eleventh-hour feeding tube surgery, stopped breathing at least three times (that I can remember), leaked blood from his pores for an entire Sunday one time and now he is comfortably resting in nursing home (also termed a "rehabilitation facility"). Since then my Mom officially became Dad's proxy and she signed his DNR paperwork.

Pop has all kinds of interesting things to say these days. "Don't forget to mop the ceiling," and "Ask the nurse when she's going to take that big rock off my back." I play along with him. "Yes, I'll buy a mop tomorrow," I said, and "The nurses will move the rock when they change shifts." There is no mop and no rock, as you may have guessed. We think he lost his mind after the last time he stopped breathing.

I am home for a while to catch up on my life while my father has daily rounds of physical and occupational therapy at this place. It's actually quite nice there - very clean and not even a whiff of pee. They have cable, therapy animals and cake.

Plenty of stories to tell you this week. First, I really need to get to that bathroom floor in the morning and (sadly) launder some towels. I intend to get a hair-do if possible, for cathartic reasons. Maybe I'll try to sleep, because I stopped trying to sleep seven weeks ago in case I got a call in the middle of the night. Mom can't pick up the phone if that happens. I miss Mom.

I am happy to see you.