"Funny the way it is..."

The more frequently I listen to the Dave Matthew's Band song Funny the Way It Is, the more I'm convinced that it is their version of Alanis Morisette's Isn't It Ironic. Maybe I'm getting it all wrong. But we'll get to that later.

It is November 1st and my trusty sidekick and I are once again traversing to the North. We pass through Reading and I am again chuckling at one of the election signs I see. Someone named Barnhardt is running for Commissioner. If you are a fan of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum novels, you'll recognize the name. I'm sure there's no relation. And I'm sure that this Barnhardt is a perfectly pleasant person. But I just can't pass the big sign without chuckling as I conjure up a vision of the character Joyce Barnhardt and visualizing her running for any type of office.

We're about one hour into our trip when my phone rings. It's a number from the hospital. I answer quickly and Frank tells me that they are ready to move dad to rehab.
I am instantly excited. They are planning on moving him at 4pm, about the time I'll arrive.
I hang up the phone and say a prayer that dad doesn't do something in the next hour and a half to screw things up!
I suddenly can't drive fast enough and the traffic around me is instantly stupid and irritating... funny how it is, huh?
While I'm indifferent about the camera I'm sure is following me, I'm hoping the cops are not watching.

We arrive at the hospital at 3:45. And Jonah has wet pants. Really? And, of course, there are no child pants to be found in the car. Seriously?
So we were that family. A child in diapers, socks, shoes and a winter coat.
Hello? Is anyone else seeing this?
Oh right, everyone we pass by is.
And I think, oh well, my kid may be dressed inappropriately, but at least we're not the ones blatantly disobeying the the "Non-Smoking" signage that is everywhere on this health care campus.

We get to dad and sweep in. I'm bubbling over, I'm so happy today is the day. Dad seems a bit indifferent. This concerns me a bit. Why isn't he happier to be getting out of there?
I check with Frank to see what the plan is. He tells me that transport will arrive about 4:30 to take dad and that we should call a nurse to help get him dressed.
I thank him for his help, return to dad's room and hit the call button.
Dad doesn't want to wait. I help him put on socks. I get out the bag of clothes from the closet. He works on his shirt.
Twenty minutes pass...no nurse.
The transport team arrives. Dad is halfway there. Still no pants on.
Still no nurse.
"Hello? Is anyone else seeing this?"
Finally I flag down a nurse and she helps dad into his pants and coat.
The transport team gets him situated and we are on our way!

We meet up again in the elevator at the rehab center.
"Hey, long time, no see, dad!"

We get dad set up in the brain injury ward. There are several women there fawning over him to help him get settled. Almost instantly the accent questions begin. "Oh, I love your accent, where are you from."
I chuckle at the look on his face. I think he's getting tired of answering the question.
Once they get a dinner tray for him, Jonah and I head to his house to pick up his suitcase (and pants for Jonah).
When we return, dad seems content. We poke through his suitcase together to see what's what.
Jonah hands him the package of cookies we picked up for him. Everything is going well.

One of the women mentions that they have a 'sitter' assigned to dad -WHAT?
"Hello? Is anyone else hearing this?"
A sitter? My brain is overrun with thoughts. Are they serious? A sitter? You mean like someone who sits next to him to make sure he's okay and doesn't hurt himself? REALLY? As in the same thing that at the hospital delayed him from going to rehab? You mean that kind of 'sitter'?
"Funny the way it is.... Isn't it Ironic?"
The woman continues on to say that she doesn't think he needs one, because he seems fine to her.
Yes, at the moment, dad is lucid and friendly. That could change in an instant.

We tell dad goodnight and head back to his house for the night and promise to be by at lunch time to check on things.

*******

Wednesday morning comes and Jonah and I set out to accomplish a lengthy list of things... phone calls, errands and back to rehab by 11am.
After circling Wilkes-Barre (several times, I think), we finally have all the we started out for and head to rehab.

When dad is wheeled into the room, he looks tired. It's time for lunch. It doesn't look horrible.
Dad tells me he could do all the things they're asking, on one foot. I tell him, " Good! Do it! Show them how it's done!"

The sitter that brought dad in tells me she doesn't think he needs one. I tell her that his demeanor and understanding can change quickly, and until he's been here a few days, it's probably best to hang around.

Dad finished lunch, they prepare for his IV antibiotics and he lays down for a nap. I guess this rehab business is tiring.... you know, doing all the stuff they ask... on one foot.

The sun shines a little brighter on our drive home.