lydamorehouse | Entries tagged with all this crap

Okay, lots to report. First of all, for those of you following along on the "all that crap" keyword, (aka, my father's lingering struggle with a number of health issues), there is FINALLY good news to report. He is at the recovery wing of the nursing home again, having been given a clean bill of health from the doctors at the hospital. Though they're still not entirely sure what what caused his mini-strokes (TIA), they think it has to do with heart arthythmia that he developed after the hip replacement surgery. Also, I need to post a correction: apparently, he (thankfully!) only suffered TWO mini-strokes, the first one that had everyone worried because it lasted several hours, and a second that lasted no more than a minute or so. At any rate, the good news is the docs sent him on for recovery and now he only has to focus on re-learning how to walk after six months of near-inactivity (though they always worked to keep his leg strength up during his previous nursing home stays.)

Secondly, I attended a "breaking" workshop at KSW. I failed to break my board. I was one of only two adults unable to do it. I suspect, considering the bruises that have developed and where they are on my hand, my technique was off. (Also, huge mental block: I kept thinking -- I have no health insurance; if I do this wrong and break a knuckle, no only have I messed up my writing career, I have bankrupted my family.) This experience has made me convinced that I was a T-Rex in a past life: I'm viscious, but have _zero_ upper body strength. ;-)

I should also say, I had no problem breaking the practice boards. Just confronted with a solid piece of wood freaked me out.

Everyone was so very sweet and concerned for my ego at the workshop. Though my hand is bruised, my ego is not, my friends. Master Barry Harmon (Kwan Jang Nim) made a point of pulling me aside and telling me that a) I had a lot to work on, and b) that he was proud that I never gave up. I said something self-depricating at the time, but I wish I'd told him what I said to Nicki (Jo Kyo Nim) when she asked me to consider why I do Kuk Sool Wan, and that is, "I do this because it's fun, Master, and giving up *isn't* fun."

The other news is that my psuedonym continues to be successful as all get out. Tate can report that you can now not only pre-order the mass-market paperback edition of Tall, Dark & Dead via Amazon.com, but also the third, and final novel in the vampire princess of St. Paul series, Almost Everything.

So, I guess that's all I got for now. I have to run off to volunteer because it's Thursday!

My mom reported this morning that my dad had his third mini-stroke (TIA). The doctors are still trying to figure out what's causing these, but Gunderson Hospital has an excellent stroke clinic so he's in the best hands possible. Both he and my mom have been very positive still. He asked her to go check his mailbox at Viterbo University and they've been making plans for when he's out. I guess one of the things that has really helped his mood is that his hip feels so much better. He can really finally use his leg after all this time.

As I said on Facebook, I'm weirdly proud that I'm related genetically to ol' "Bullet." He's been through a lot physically and emotionally and he keeps coming up fighting.

I would like now, however, for all his positive energy to be rewarded. It would be all right if the universe wanted to stop throwing curve balls at him, and he could have a nice long period of good health!

You know the Jewish tradition where, when someone is gravely ill, you give them a new name, so that the Angel of Death will walk by when he comes looking for them? Well, my dad has always gone by a nickname, "Mort." I'm really starting to believe that the angel of death keeps showing up asking for "Richard Morehouse" and, only finding this "Mort" guy, leaves.

I got a call yesterday morning that my dad had a stroke.

Yes, this after successfully surviving sepsis, c-def, and months in the recovery wing of the nursing home while waiting for a hip replacement. My mom had been worried, starting Saturday, because my dad was having a really difficult time recovering from the surgery. It went into overtime by several hours, and, while my dad is clearly a really tough bird, it really seemed to have knocked him back. She said he was confused at one point and thought he was still getting ready to go into surgery. This freaked me out, but all the other signs seemed okay, so I tried to put it out of my mind.

Then, on Sunday, after I took Shawn to the airport (she's off on a work trip to a conference in Washington, D.C.), I got home to the message. I'd left my cell charging because it had run out of battery unexpectedly the night before. (For some reason it's stopped giving me the warning beeps when it's low.) Anyway, there were three fairly frantic messages from my mom. I finally was able to call her back and find out what was going on.

He'd had a stroke. The doctors said they think it was a kind of stroke called a transient ischemic attack. They'd know more in 48 hours. (Now having read the wikipedia article, I know why. Apparently the effects are reversable if they last as long as 24 hours, but fewer than 72.)

I'm still not entirely clear WHY this happened to my dad. The surgery he underwent was pretty routine, even if it did go into overtime. He's been through a LOT in the last six months, but he was in fairly good shape when they checked him in before the procedure. Though, he has had problems with blood clots in the past, it's not clear that's what caused this. The multitude of theories my mom has heard from various doctors include the absorption rate of the anesthesia during the long procedure to something messed up in his brain stem... none of which are very clear to me or make a whole lot of sense.

The important thing is that he's regained his speech as of this morning, and strength has returned to his right side. Right now, as long as things continue to be stable, the doctors are predicting a full recovery.

I tell you though, this has been a serious emotional ride for me (as I'm sure it has been ten times that for my mom and my dad's sister, Mary Ann, who has been a trouper by showing up every day during this entire saga.) Last night, I had the craziest nightmare that I know is related. I had one of those dreams where someone is trying to get into the house. I'm trying to avoid being see by this shadowy figure -- ducking down before reaching up to lock windows, avoiding answering the door. I'm in the upstairs bathroom with Shawn and I'm telling her, "for god's sake, don't tell anyone it's okay to come in," when I realize it's too late. The shadowy figure is at the landing of the stairs. I'm completely impotent against it. I try to throw a recipie book I'm holding at it, but it bounces of (or passes through, at any rate, it's useless). I'm trying to tell it that I can see it and it should go away, but my mouth won't work, I've got something stuck in my throat. I can't breathe. That moment freaks me out so much that I wake up. My heart is pounding.

I actually go up to make sure no one was on the landing, of course. And I took my asthma medicine in case I really WAS having trouble breathing, but as I laid in bed thinking about that dream. I knew it was the angel of death. I was trying, subconsciously, to keep the "wolves" from the door.

Maybe it worked. Fingers crossed.

Okay, well, that was quite the trip, and, alas, my poor father's saga is not yet complete! Last things first: his surgery went overtime yesterday by about two hours. I ended up having to leave for the train station before hearing from the doctor, but my mom called. From what I understand the surgery was complicated by the fact that the surgeon accidentally broke my dad's femur while fixing his hip. This apparently happens more often than you might expect. It may also mean that, depending on how severe the break is, he may still have to stay off that leg for a while...

...which would mean back to the nursing home for more physical therapy!

AAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH.

I'm going to call my mom in a little while, actually, and see what news. They weren't happy with the x-rays they were able to get in the operating room, so today they will get more, clearer pictures and hopefully know whether or not the break will be able to withstand pressure or not. If it can, they'll patch it up and send him home. If it can't... see above.

My poor pa. It's like a Series of Unfortunate Events, only without the bestselling novel and the funny bits.

The trip down and back were both, uh, "interesting."

Down was much as I expected. The shuttle bus is tiny, cramped and frought with polka (at least the second half of the journey always is). The first shuttle down to Rochester had me cheek (as in butt) to cheek with two other women the entire way. On my left was a woman who currently lives in Iowa but was clearly Not-From-Around-Here because she really, REALLY wanted to tell me all about her trip to Atlanta. I managed to avoid much of that by "meditating" (aka turning on my meditation mp3s and napping) for a good solid chunk of the trip, but when we got into Rochester, she was fit to burst and needed to talk my ear off until we got to the main hotel. Luckily, that was only a few minutes, and she was actually quite pleasant, if non-stop.

The second bus driver is the guy who loves polka. There's ALWAYS smelly food ingested by someone, BUT, twice so far, at least, I've gotten to have a seat to myself to stretch out in. The people behind me this time: two old ladies and an older gentleman were probably the funniest part. You know how some people can just talk about nothing, but not in a funny Seinfield sort of way, really NOTHING? Well, these were those ladies. They were also weridly noisy. They asked me about my laptop's wallpaper (a villa in Italy) and I think they were reading my novel over my shoulder as I was writing which was... awkward to say the least. I ended up giving up trying to write after only a few paragraphs. The bus was bumpy anyway, and I kept accidently sliding my arm across the touch pad and launching functions I wasn't intending.

I did get a lot of writing done on the train ride home, but, this time, instead of pleasant Amish folks, I got on the car with the drunk, party people. There were even Australians for god's sake!

Plus, I noticed as the train pulled in that its engine number was 13. Cue dramatic music!!! Yes, and we were randomly delayed four or five times along the route. The first time it was freight train traffic. The second... MARINE traffic! (Seriously, the railroad bridge had opened for a barge and we had to wait for it to swing closed and be locked down.) Then, we had to wait for some other Amtrack to pass us, and the most maddening of all? We were delayed just outside of the Amtrack station itself... which meant I could SEE MY HOUSE from the car, but I couldn't get off!!!!!

AARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHH.

I ended up walking home around 11 pm, feeling wholly dissatisfied. I would at least feel as though it was a good thing that I was there to keep my mom company, but I think her worry about my travel arrangements may have actually added to her stress rather than relieving any of it.

So, a pretty crazy couple of days, honestly.

At least I got a ton written.

I just noticed that I have failed to update my blog since my dad went into surgery last Wednesday. The trip home on the train that night was absolutely lovely. The train was on time, and, thanks to the flooding in the Dakotas, St. Paul is its terminal stop. I walked home from the Amtrack station, which is six (LONG) blocks from my house. It's a bit of a hike, but it was a lovely night and I had traveled lightly (one backpack). It's always so strange to walk alone at night and I enjoyed the hushed, almost voyeristic sensation of dark streets and bright indoor lights.

My dad seems to be doing well. Today will be his first day out of the hospital, and he's returning to the Bethany Riverside nursing home to continue his recovery. He had hoped to finally be going home, but they need to continue an IV drip of antibiotics to fight off this tenacious infection. If they get this thing beat (and the doctor, the last I heard at any rate, seemed confident they would,) they'll be able to schedule his real-and-for-true hip replacement. That should be some time in September if everything stays positive. If not, my understanding is that they will just have to pospone things until the infection *is* finally cleared up.

My life, meanwhile, continues apace. On the train ride home last Wednesday, I had a kind of breakthrough moment with the newest novel and I like it a lot better. When I like a novel, it writes faster, so that's a very good thing. In fact, just today, while Shawn hung out with a fellow laid-off state employee, I managed to write nearly a thousand words in about an hour. That's my usual pace for a deadline novel.

I also FINALLY had the ceremony in which I received my yellow belt. (I'd tested earlier, but they've moved the ceremony to a later time now.) Turns out, the ceremony is now: "promotion and demo." I didn't know about that last part, so I was taken aback when asked to perform the white belt form in front of an audience. I think I did pretty well, and I was glad I wasn't all alone (an instructor and the blue belt candidate did it with me). Still, the whole time I was thinking, "ah, crap. I didn't take my inhaler because I thought I'd just be standing around" and it was like 103 and humid in the building.) But I didn't need it, even though later I also had to do a cartwheel AND a roll. I was pleased that I was able to do a "flying roll" (really, just a roll from a dead run onto a mat,) because, in all honesty, I like those better than having to start from kneeling or a crouch.

Mason, alas, was in charge of the camera, so, while he took a LOT of pictures, the quality on many of them is dubious. It's a really big shame that Shawn wasn't there with her telephoto lens skillz, because I would have LOVED to have seen myself "in action," as it were. Given how round I am in the one pretty good picture he got, I suspect I look a LOT like Kung Fu Panda.

My dad is currently in the OR. My mom and I are waiting in the waiting room at Gunderson in LaCrosse.

Weirdly, it's been a fun morning. We met my dad at the hospital at 7:00 am, and fell right into chatting about life, the universe, and everything. We got the nurses telling funny stories in pre-op and generally having a lot of what my dad calls, "talking smart."

The procedure is that they're going to replace my dad's hip with a "spacer," which is a custom built bone that's been saturated with antibotics. He'll keep that in until they can make him a cyborg with a mechanical replacement six months or so down the line. This will give him back the mobility he's been missing. He'll have to use a walker or a cane for a while because the spacer isn't built to last (think: temporary crown for the hip.)

With any luck, if things go well today, he can actually do his recovery at home. If not, he can go back to the recovery wing of the nursing home and do all the PT and whatnot there.

Probably the funniest part of this trip so far was the shuttle down to LaCrosse.

naomikritzer turned us on to this option. It's basically a long-distance hotel shuttle bus. They pick up at the St.Paul/Minneapolis airport and drop people off in Rochester, Winona and LaCrosse. Given the distance, I sort of expected more of a "bus," you know, with bathroom facilities. Nope. We were in an oversized minivan, knee-to-back, and the promised WiFi was quite spotty. I did manage to write a little on the way to Rochester, but when we changed buses the fun really began. The bus drive played polka music on the stereo and one of the other passangers ate stinky food in the front seat. The only good thing was that there were a lot fewer of us going the distance to Winona/LaCrosse, so I had a bench seat all to myself. I also had a long a very cheesy military SF novel called PRISON SHIP (these are all-male, man's men, doing manly things in space with other men). This added an extra level of surreal to the trip, especially with the polka music as background.

The other thing that kept me going was that the trip just isn't that long -- even with all the various stops at hotels.

So now my job for the day is to keep my mom company and be there when my dad comes out of it.

Last night, at 12:01 am, the state of Minnesota shut down. My partner is out of work.

Yet, despite the financial hardship this is going to cause us, I don't want Governor Dayton to cave to the filthy Republicans. I would apologize for the adjective to any of my Republican friends, but these days I'm finding it harder and harder to keep friends who vote for people who are seriously willing to protect the rich at the expense of the poor.

Jesus wept.

I had to take an IQ test as an adult as part of testing for dyslexia (to check, in point of fact, that I *had* an actual problem and wasn't just a moron. For the record, I passed the test.) At any rate, one of the questions was: "Why do we pay taxes?" We pay taxes so we can have roads and schools and public services of all kinds. The Republicans in office right now don't seem to understand this basic concept. By protecting their rich friends and, presumably themselves, they are bankrupting the state (and the country.) I would (and do) pay my fair share; Dayton would. Why won't they, who have SO much more than the rest of us? The tax rate on the rich is lower now than it was under Reagan, and we all thought we should "Eat the Rich" then!

Christ on a crutch.

In the rest of my life, things continue to suck. Shawn is sick, Mason barfed last night, and I'm still making a very slow recovery from the flu. I actually blame myself for Mason's relapse last night. I thought he was well enough to treat to a Dairy Queen diner after our little trip to the beach yesterday. I was rewarded with the smell of regurgitated French fries all over the bed and floor at about 10:00 pm. o_O

My dad, too, has had a setback. The test for infection came back positive with E. coli. We don't quite know what this means yet, except that the doctors say "this complicates matters." He's in for more tests today, including an MRI. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the doctors will have a plan. Perhaps that's foolish, but hope is the last and greatest affliction that Pandora's box unleashed on us, isn't it?

At any rate, I spent part of last night, after the barfing incident, weeping. I think it's quite obviously because I really want my dad to get better (he's got things to do, places to go!), but weirdly the thing my mind focused on was my yellow belt test. I don't feel ready -- mentally or physically. And, they've changed the rules now so I _can_ fail, and, frankly, I don't need failure in my life at this juncture. I'm waffling this morning about e-mailing KSW and telling them that I need to wait again. It depresses me no end to delay, but it depresses me more to think about going and failing.

Also, they've changed the promotion ceremony too. It's no longer at the end of the test (because its no longer guaranteed,) so going won't even get me the belt. I have to go back on a different weekend for that, IF I pass.

So, I don't know. I once told JKN during a private lesson that the reason I joined KSW was very simple: to have fun. This is really all I want. And, frankly, every class is still fun -- even the ones where I come home exhausted, sweaty and bruised; or the ones where I completely botch an obstacle course at the second station; or when my "high" kick knocks over a chair... actually, those are my favorites. Which is to say, I have NEVER not enjoyed class.

I'm worried that I'm going to start to dread/hate tests.

I wish I could ask not to be promoted.

Since I was feeling so sick yesterday, I took the day off as a day of rest. I may do the same today because sleeping seems to have done wonders. My nose is still drippy, but I feel quite a bit recovered. Mason is still low energy, which is very disconcerting for a boy who usually talks a mile a minute while dancing the entire time. He's in the other room streaming episodes of "Shaun the Sheep" from Netflix, and he seems to be giggling a bit more like normal, thank goodness.

One thing I managed to do yesterday is talk to the CONvergence folks. I had thought I was going to be out of town this weekend, so I cancelled all my appearances some time ago. I emailed them asking about day passes, and, they very kindly (as I am a confirmed guest for next year) offered to print out a badge for me to pick up at registration any time. They also, quite AMAZINGLY, even said they could find programming for me, if I'd like, but I declined. I mean, CONvergence is seriously imminent and that seemed a bit too demanding diva, even for me. Besides, I'd like the freedom to just come and go as I please. I can't remember the last time I just attended a con, so it might make a nice change.

So maybe I'll see some of you there?

With any luck, I will be a yellow belt when next you see me -- although the test is later in the evening on Saturday, so maybe not.

In other news, the saga of my father's illness continues. He's been making slow and steady progress conquering the c-def and getting rid of the edema. But he was still have so much trouble with his hip that my folks finally requested a doctor's visit for an x-ray. Guess what? My dad's hip wasn't arthritic at all; it was BROKEN. Probably, the doctors figure it was broken some time ago before all this started, though the physical therapy did NOT do it any good.

Irony anyone?

At any rate, he's going to be scheduled for a hip replacement surgery at some point in the near future (fingers crossed, next week.) But first they have to take a culture of his hip to make sure that there's no sepis virus lingering there. That, unfortunately, takes a week to grow (or not.)

So my poor dad is stuck at the nursing home for at least another week. To say that my parents are getting sick of that place is probably the understatement of the year. Plus, without the physical therapy, there's just not a lot for my dad to _do_. They're working his upper body and one good leg, but this has really become a waiting for the hip replacement game. I'm going to be sending white light in their direction hoping that the sepis virus is not lurking anywhere and that this operation can happen ASAP. The silver lining is that there's a really good indication that my dad will be able to have a "weight-bearing" deal, which means that he can do his remaining recovery at HOME.

That would be awesome.

Anyway, if you have spare "positive energy" or inclined to pray, send thoughts, etc., I'd sure appreciate some of them winging in the direction of my dad. This has been one seriously LONG recovery.

As y'all know, I couldn't go to WisCON this year, but I got to hear all about it starting last night when

seanmmurphy stopped by to tell me all about the Wyrdsmiths' party and the various panels he was on. Then, this morning, I went almost directly over to

naomikritzer's house to "debreif" about everything until sometime after lunch.

It was the next best thing to being there.

Tomorrow I get to hang out with Eleanor and get her take.

I love my friends.

Oh, and my dad continues to improve -- slow and steady. He still has a lot of edema caused, in his case, by earlier problems with plasma protein. The good news is that the swelling is going down on its own, if incrementally. He's going to get to talk to a doctor tomorrow who will probably proscribe medication that will help reduce it, plus continued physical therapy (and general recovery.)

What's been weirdly fun about my father's illness is that we've had this wonderful time to reconnect on a very deep level. We've always been a fairly close family, but, of course, I usually come to visit with Mason and Shawn. A lot of my folk's energy is focused on hanging out with the grandkid, so we really haven't had long, extended periods in which to hang out. I've found out/remembered how cool my dad is/has always been. I realized this time, too, that I really do share his eccelctic interest in nearly everything. My dad talks very disparagingly about times in which he's been too snooty to recognize the value in somethings, but I have to say that I don't see very much of that. He's one of those people who can get excited about almost any subject, which goes a long way to explaining my rather BROAD taste in "intellectual" persuits. (I put that in quotes because of the usual connotation of that word, which is, well, those snooty things, and what I really mean to imply is a general interest in ideas of all kinds regardless of where they originate.)

Plus, I got some very good one-on-one time with my mom, too. We had some really good, deeply personal discussion *and* I got to introduce her to the AWESOME that is "Kung Fu Panda." So, despite all the heartache and worry, it was actually sort of... well, fun... to get to be with my folks this weekend, DESPITE the circumstances.

Hopefully, come July when I head back there, we can have all the same without all the worry!

Even though it bummed me out a bit, I took care of completely cancelling WisCON for myself. Thanks to

naomikritzer I even managed to find a desperate soul in need of a WisCON membership, so I officially transferred that over this morning. The only things left are getting a couple of copies of Resurrection Code signed and ready to go down to be given away -- one to the Whedonista folks for their party, and the other to the winner of the bid of my con-or-bust donation. I'm hoping that after a couple of lightsaber battles with Mason (who is still off until the end of Memorial Day weekend), we can head over to Uncles to pick up copies (I've been out of my author's copies for some time.)

I feel really very organized for someone not going anywhere special.

In the good news column, my dad called me out of the blue this morning. Seems that one of the things he's doing to occupy himself while recouperating is catching up on all his journal reading. My dad is a retired psychology professor who writes all sorts of stuff that's way above my pay grade, including this book, which is a standard text in those sorts of classes. At any rate, he was reading one of the journals in the UK that he recently published part 2 of a two part article, and he discovered in the editoral that he'd received a LOT of positive response to part 1 and they were, in fact, proposing to do an entire themed issue on the stuff he was talking about.

I suppose thrat's like writing a short story for Interzone that's so awesome people want to write what amounts to fanfic/other stories exploring similar themes and the editor decides to devote an entire issue to that.

Pretty cool.

But, more to the point, my dad sounded utterly tickled about it. This is good news on a lot of levels. For instance, I know that he's got a lot of the same insecurities that I have, which is to say that we both want to be outstanding in our field, but worry that no one has ever heard of us and, if they do, that our ideas aren't terribly original or noteworthy. On top of that, I think we both fret that an extended absence from the field will equal becoming no longer relevant. I'm glad that my dad is getting hard evidence that's simply not true. Because that sort of thing bouys the spirits, and, no matter what, he could use a bit of that.

Anyway, I need to get some writing done at some point. I should go battle the forces of the evil Jedi and get to that.

Oh, and speaking of writing, it looks like an e-book for Resurrection Code is in the works. Fingers crossed!

Normally, I'd post my WisCON schedule this week, but I've decided to cancel my trip. My dad made his move into the recovery wing of the nursing home today, and it sounds like the transition had a few bumps. My mom says they seemed to have no information from the hospital about his specific needs, particularly his diet. I've mentioned before with the month-long diarreha, my dad's stomach is really sensitive. He's been living on protein shakes and bites of very bland foods found mostly in the BRAT diet (or BRATTY, more like, which includes not only the banana, rice, applesauce, toast, but also tea and yogurt.)

At any rate, the call from home stressed me out a bit, because, if LaCrosse hadn't had a tornado on Sunday night, I would have been there to make the transition to the new place with him. I know my mom is very capable, but I also know how nice it is to have someone else to strategize, etc. with when things aren't 100% smooth-going. (Especially in hosptial situations, you know? It's all so kind of scary and unfamiliar, it's nice to have someone else to help you ask and demand and all those things you need to do to advocate for the right kind of care.)

I did call the nursing home myself and talked directly to the nurse. I told her what my concerns were, and I hope that she took them seriously. I'm going to call my dad in a little bit and see how he feels about the whole thing. The good news is that, since I have canceled WisCON, I'll be able to see the place myself in a matter of days. Considering that his c-def is mostly under control, the nursing home shouldn't be able to do too much damage in the intervening time.

In the meantime, life goes on. I, as Tate, got some new cover art for the third (and perhaps final?????) Ana book:

This one is pretty small, but you can see a larger version over at Wyrdsmiths or the Tate blog.

First of all, I'm very disappointed in the Rapture. Hardly anyone I know either disappeared or turned into a pillar of salt. Sigh.

Perhaps he misread the "maths," as the British would say, and we were supposed to be expecting a few raptors or maybe some captors instead.

So my poor dad spent his 70th birthday in the hospital. For those of you following along, Mort has been in and out of the hospital since a very serious bout of sepis about a month ago. The most recent issue has to do with the fact that he contracted c-def, which, ironically, he got by being in the hospital for so long. C-def is a particularly nasty super-bug that's hard to kill. His other problems were made worse by the fact that c-def causes a lot of diarrhea (a problem he'd already been battling with the sepis). The sepis, which was caused by a kidney stone, has also meant lingering issues with low protien blood level. This has cause fluid swelling and all sorts of nasty side effects.

My dad, in short, is in a very bad way.

However, yesterday and today were good days. My dad, mom and I started strategizing after a particularly unhelpful visit by the nutritionist. I'd asked about foods that might help combat the diarrhea and they didn't have a lot of suggestions. So we went to Dr. Google and my mom thought of probiotics. This morning we talked the doctor into proscribing them (which I guess can be risky in certain situations), and Mort had a nearly-diarrhea free day.

So fingers-crossed.

If he continues to improve, the plan is to move him to what we've been calling a "recovery spa" (really the recovery wing of a nursing home), because this whole illness has made him so weak that he needs extensive physical therapy to get back on his feet (almost literally.)

I plan to stay in LaCrosse until Monday, when he will hopefully make that transition. My mom, who has been the sole care provider each time the hospital dumps him out, has REALLY needed a break -- physically and mentally. I think, particularly for my folks who are both relatively young (and certainly young at heart) and active and normally vibrant, this has been a real blow. It's been hard to keep spirits up. So, one of my jobs here has been just keeping up the pleasant chatter. I've been reading to my dad from the New York Times, the Guardian, and the Huffington Post. I've been encouraging him to check into his e-mail and do other business that keeps him engaged in moving forward and thinking about the future OUT of the hospital. He's been in so long, I think it's been easy to imagine that this is all there is... or worse, will be.

We, I think, have actually managed to have a little fun. My dad does a lot of work internationally, so I had Mason and Shawn set up a Skype conversation this morning. We've had a LOT of undivided time to talk and I've learned about my dad's experiences with the march on Washington (he was almost headed South to join/support the Freedom Riders, but their bus was divereted to DC.) He was once at a wedding with Sein Finn leader Martin McGuinness, which freaking FLOORED *me*, but which my dad admitted to being completley clueless about. And just general discussion about the "revolution" (which my dad would like to start by instigating more "great books" clubs at coffeeshops around the nation) and the meanness of the recent crop of Republicans/Tea Partiers.

But, I would like my dad to get some positive news and measurable forward progress that would make him really BELIEVE he has the strength to beat this thing. Also, Shawn would like me home soon... and I'd like to go too, but not before I know things are more settled.

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Day in the Life of an Idiot

Journal of Lyda Morehouse

Entries tagged with all this crap

Stuff!

Dad Update

My Dad, aka "Bullet"

Life, Such as it is...

Updatery

Waiting

Shut Down

Recovery

Blinded by Pure Awesome