Dearest Rachel –
You’re aware that, when I asked the folks’ permission to set up an office in their basement, where Dad used to have his office, it wasn’t entirely altruistic, so as to be in the house in case they needed me to be there for some reason or other. Oh, there is that, to be sure, but the point was to allow me to actually focus on whatever my ‘work’ might be on a given day. At home, I’m just too prone to be distracted by one fun diversion or another to actually accomplish anything of any consequence.
The accounting work I do each month for church – and the data entry I record for camp – simply needs more attention than that I can realistically give while I’m at home. Even the AI projects I want to do as a hobby require less distraction than home affords – which is a bit of a problem, given that the ‘sets’ I want to film in are at home. Assuming I can ever figure out how to use my new camera, I’m still going to end up processing the footage at my ‘office’ all the same.
Now, I have this computer rig in the bedroom at home – and it’s got very much the same power as the one at the ‘office’ – but I’m generally more tempted to watch videos and read my news feed than actually do any ‘work’ here. To be sure, I’ll do that at the ‘office,’ too, but not to the same extent, by any means. Somehow, by being away from home, I’ve been able to knuckle down and actually get stuff done in a way that I’ve not been able to from home.
A typical, productive ‘work’ day consists of me putting in an hour or so at the gym on the treadmill, followed by washing up and eating breakfast. Admittedly, this rarely gets me out of the house until ten, when I’d prefer to be at the ‘office’ by nine, but it can’t be helped. After chatting with the folks for a bit, I head downstairs and handle what I feel I need to (which, by the way, generally includes this letter to you) before checking out between three and four; I’ll often do a little grocery shopping on the way home, which is why I leave so early. Either way, it gives me a chance to arrive home early enough to spend a little time with Daniel before Logan comes downstairs from his job (I rather envy his ability to apparently stay on task in his room – I can’t even work on my own bill payments here) and the boys go off to hang out together for the rest of the night.
With Dad in the hospital, this routine changes. The gym and the ‘office’ are completely dispensed with (which for the past week has been okay, as the financials had just been completed, but there will be a lot of catching up to do). Somehow, I’ve been able to still write you first thing in the morning before heading to the hospital, but once I’m there, it feels wrong to pay attention to anything other than him. Oh, if and when he nods off, I’ll check my news feed (and I probably do too much of that when he’s not actually asleep, too), but otherwise, the whole point is to just be there with him.
In some ways, I’m not quite sure why. Most of the time, either he doesn’t actually need anything – or what he does need, I can’t provide myself, apart from checking at the nurses’ station for assistance. He’s already given us all the instructions we might need for after his passing, and it isn’t as if we’re waiting for some last-minute words of wisdom before he goes. And if the reasoning is that he shouldn’t be lonely while he’s there, well… even if I’m there for the length of a full ‘work’ day, that only amounts to eight hours; that’s only a third of the day.
And yes, I’m there that long, rather than heading out early to either shop or hang out with Daniel. I figure I’ll have time for all that later, but I’ve only got so much time to be with Dad at this point, even if there’s not much more to be said between us. This is not to seek praise for dedication, mind you; for all that I’ve dispensed with large swaths of my prior work routine, it still seems woefully inadequate, given the amount of time he’s still got to be alone there.
I wonder if Mom doesn’t think much the same way; and in her case, his absence means that she’s alone in the house as well. So that explains her presence at his side in the hospital (although, interestingly, I’ve managed to arrive at his room before her as often as not – I guess I really am a morning person), but I’m not sure what it says about mine, other than that I can be there for him, even if that’s really all I can be.
Today, however, this changes. Just before I would have called it a day at the hospital yesterday, the EMTs arrived from the ambulance service arrived to take him from the hospital to the rehabilitation facility where they intend to see if they can build him up – at his own pace, such as it may be – sufficiently so that he can once again return home and spend his final days there, albeit with a nurse or other caregiver coming in at regular intervals multiple times a day to help him with daily functions.
According to both him and the folks at the facility (some of whom remember him from last time, and expressed enthusiasm at seeing him again – he points out the importance of being kind and leaving a good impression on people, as you never know when you might meet them again), mornings are busy there, and I might just get in the way. So it’s been agreed that I will head to the ‘office’ for those first couple of hours during the day and get some actual ‘work’ done for a change – there’ll probably be some catching up to do – before heading over to spend the afternoon with him. Their home is between ours and the care facility, anyway, so that rather makes sense. In any event, he’s given me permission – actually, kind of requested me – to stay away for a few hours, in order to get stuff done.
To be sure, I’m probably not going to get anything done on my own projects, but as long as I can accomplish certain things for church and camp, even he can be satisfied with that. It’s a whole new schedule going forward for now, until we can figure out what he’s still capable of, if anything. Obviously, I’ll keep you up to speed about it, but for now, all I can ask is that you keep an eye on us and wish us well. As far as I can tell, that’s all I know we’ll need for the moment.
Letters to Rachel 