Disappointment Begat Disappointment

Hope (and perhaps that pesky camera I swear is following me) is sometimes the only thing moving me forward. Without it (them), it would be hard not to just stand still... or better yet, stay in bed with the covers pulled over my head.

While Wednesday was full of disappointment, we all were holding out with hope that Thursday would bring terrific news and all would be moving forward in a positive direction with dad going to rehab.

Hope screwed us...

Wednesday into Thursday brought some definite set backs and with it, disappointment.

Dad woke up at some point in the night, and through some events we're unclear on, forgot about the catheter that was still in and when staff tried to help, he kicked one. Hard enough to send them to the ER.
And while part of me is kinda proud - dad still has some fight in him; and thrilled - to hear that he has some strength; I'm disappointed that it happened.
Because now we're into more set-backs.... apparently assaulting staff members leads to sedation and restraints. And apparently, rehab centers don't like those two things. I'm not sure why...

So while things are improving, dad sits and waits.
Sue's husband left in the wee hours of the morning to sit with dad...and make sure he didn't assault any one else. However, the sedation and restraints were kind of a guarantee that all staff members were safe. Regardless, it was good to have him there.
Sue drove up again in hopes that Friday would be the day. But Friday was just as disappointing.

If I were the hospital, I'd want to get rid of this patient pronto. I mean, he beat up one their employees. And yet, they are hanging on to him. Dragging their feet. Or so that's how it seems.

The family and I drive up Saturday afternoon. We head right to the hospital to give Sue a break. Not much of a break, really. We don't spend too much time before making an exit to allow privacy for bathroom usage. On one hand, I'm kinda tired of looking at these hallways, but on the other hand, the non-patient hallway is completely vacant, and it makes a nice raceway for the boys.

We check back. No movement, so we take a walk. We return only to have just missed the doctor.
Really? The ghost in the night doctor...the one we've all heard about, but have yet to see with our own eyes? And we've missed him because of poop? Really?
Okay, I exaggerate, but not by much.
I rush to the nurse's station to see if he might come back and speak to us so we know what's going on.
He does. And in his opinion, dad is ready to go to rehab. He wants him to go to rehab. But nothing moves on a weekend.
sigh.

We return to the "raceway". Sue returns and we fill her in with what little we know.

I have my lap top and I think I'll entertain dad with some pictures. We never get to it. There is too much going on in the room. And then dinner arrives. We herd the children out and head to the lobby.

We then head out for dinner. My trusty phone leads us to Red Robin where we enjoy a tasty beverage (or two). I don't want to talk about dad... I don't think any of us want to. It is nice to catch up with Sue. We never get to hang out. I suppose that's what happens when you live 4 hours apart.

The family and I head to dad's house to 'camp' for the night. We roll in and it is chilly. Inside and out.
Yeah, it would silly to have heat left on... I mean who trusts those silly thermostat thingamabobs anyway.
"Hello? Is anyone else seeing this?"
We set to work, figuring out the complexity of dad's heating set up and try to warm up the house.  We unload all our gear and head out to the store...I forgot towels. And dad really only has the beach towels from 20+ years ago. I know there are hidden cameras... I'm sure of it.
Actually, everything in the house is like going back in time to my childhood. The sheets on his bed are a mis-matched set that used to go on our little twin beds. I loved that daffodil printed sheet. I don't recall there being a fitted sheet to match, but I loved it none the less.
And the hand towel in the bathroom reminds me of our home in Upper Darby. It is so ugly, yet so comforting.
We play games, we make jiffy pop, we watch a movie. And settle in for our "camp out".

In the morning, we clean up. We rake leaves, mulch leaves, blow leaves, mow leaves... even bag leaves. Just for fun we even filled a couple of those jack-o-lantern bags...the boys love it. I'm pretty sure dad will hate it. But I do it anyway. Take that, hidden cameras!
There is still a giant pile of leaves. Noah is having a blast jumping into it... I figure, why not? And I go for it... Noah loves that I do.
"Hey, hidden cameras! Did you get that one on film? No worries... I'll do it again! Woo hoo!!!!"

We wrap up all that we can do in the yard, set the trash out. Jonah is melting down. I'm growing weary. Noah is a dirty mess. This is fun, right?

We head back to the hospital. Jonah is out cold. So Dan relaxes while Noah and I head in to see dad. Dad is out cold. So we sit.
Dad looks old. Really old.
Noah and I sit and chat while dad sleeps. When dad finally rouses, it's as though he'd rather us not be there. He's tired.

"Bedpan!"
sheesh.
"I need a bedpan!"
Every time I'm in the room, dad's roommate calls for a bedpan. I'm beginning to get a complex.

We decide to head out. Dad is tired (I'm assuming from the non-stop party that is a hospital after hours), and we need to get home and attend to our lives.
It's been a disappointing week/ weekend. We're all weary, but there's always hope.

And there's always tomorrow for rehab... right?