Recap of the last two weeks and........Whistling Dixie

You know how some tv shows give you a thirty second recap of the last ten or so episodes, to catch viewers up on what they've missed, or forgotten? Well get ready. I haven't written for several weeks. There's a reason why. No, correction. There are reasonS, why. Here goes.

April 29: My first grandchild is born to my son and his wife. They live in San Diego.

April 30: I fly to NYC to see my daughter's semester-end showcase at her school. Short weekend trip. Back on Tuesday, May 4.

May 2: Mom falls while I'm in NYC. Again. Dislocates her hip. Again. This is the fourth time for anybody's who's counting. Paramedics take her to the ER, again. Relocate the hip, again. But this time she injured her foot when she fell and consequently can't walk on it. She's admitted to the hospital.

May 4: My daughter and I fly back to Seattle and to Sequim.

May 4-May 10: Daily visits to the hospital with Dad to see Mom. She's medicated pretty heavily. She keeps asking me why her bedroom looks so different and "Who are all those strange people?" She has one of those I'm-so-happy-but-I-don't-know-why-smiles on her face that doesn't go away.

May 5: Mom is transferred to the rehab place in Sequim. Surprisingly, she seems okay with this....or is she still so heavily medicated she doesn't get it yet....?

May 8: She hadn't gotten it yet. The meds wear off and Mom has a full blown anxiety attack. Rehab staff calls me to come over immediately. Dad and I go over. I can hear Mom screaming as I walk through the double glass doors. Kind of surreal really. We get to her room. I'll spare you the details. It wasn't pretty. I talk with the staff about adjusting her meds. They say it will take at least 24 hours for the calming effect of the new med schedule to take effect.

May 9: Strange Mother's Day......cuz........the woman who is my mother was not inhabiting the body I visit at rehab. Dad and I have a short visit with Mom.

May 10: My daughter flies back to NYC. I fly to San Diego to meet my new grandchild and help out my son and his wife with the new baby. The night before I seriously consider not going. But Dad and the caregiver both reassure me that it's actually a very good time for me to go. So I do.

May 10-15: I bond with my grandbaby; cook for my son and his wife; help them pack boxes for moving into their new house; Dad calls to tell me that Mom is back to her old self. Relief.

May 15: Back to Sequim. The one-parent house is strangely serene. Dad and the dogs are in great spirits.

May 16-today: One of the daily visitors to the rehab place brings along his black lab, Dixie. Dad loves Dixie. Seriously. All Dad talks about on the way over to the rehab place is whether or not Dixie will be there. Dixie was there today. Dad gushed all over her. Told the owner that if he ever needed a home for Dixie that Dad would gladly take her in.

On the way home, Dad told me, "It's a sign."

"Huh?" I asked, "What's a sign?"

"Dixie."

"Huh?" I asked again.

"Dixie and I crossed paths at rehab because we're destined to be together some day." Dad's grinning. He seems pretty content and pleased with his new role as soothsayer.

There's a second reason why Dad loves to visit the rehab place. (It's a sad fact that visiting Mom is actually his third reason. Dogs, Food, Mom. Yup, that's pretty much my dad's priority list of life.)

And another reason--mashed potatoes. I may or may not have mentioned that my dad is a human garbage disposal. He eats anything. ANY. THING. He especially loves mashed potatoes. So if Mom happens to be eating when we visit, and there happens to be mashed potatoes on her tray, rest assured it will be gone within minutes of Dad laying eyes on it. A couple of visits ago he devoured Mom's entire lunch tray, mashed potatoes and all. After lunch, I took Mom out for a "stroll" in her wheelchair. When we came back, Dad was sound asleep on Mom's bed. One of the nurses came running into the room, a look of stark concern on her face, "Do you know this man!?"

I glanced at the bed--Dad sawing off the zzz-s, mouth half open, Filson cap pulled down over his eyes. "Yeah, that's my dad." I smiled.

Apparently the staff thought some old man had wandered into the facility and into my mom's room, Goldilocks-style, ate all the food on her lunch tray, then promptly fell asleep in her bed that was clearly "juuuuust right."

Yeah. So that's been the last two weeks, condensed. Not sure where this new chapter is headed. Stay tuned...