Dearest Rachel –
I wasn’t going to head to the rehab center yesterday, despite the fact that it was to be the day Dad moved out, presumably for the final time in his life. It might have been a reasonable idea to be on hand to bid farewell to a team of nurses that had done yeoman work to balance between keeping him comfortable and getting him up and out of bed now and again in order to at least prepare for what he might have to exert himself doing once he came home. If nothing else, I could have ensured that what handful of personal effects he still had there would be brought home with him.
Then again, I might very well have just been in the way. Certainly, once the ambulance crew arrived to load him onto the gurney, his room would have been insanely crowded, and I would have been of absolutely no help to them. Likewise, the staff would be stopping by to wish him well, and for all that I might have wanted to personally thank them for their service, these farewells were between him and them; my presence would have been peripheral at best.
Besides, I was of the understanding that somebody needed to be at the house to receive the new equipment that would be delivered to turn the family room into his hospice room. After weeks of self-neglect for Dad’s sake, Mom had set up an appointment with her beauty salon for a haircut and other amenities, and Dad saw no reason to begrudge her that, not unlike with me and my upcoming travels. So it fell to me to be on hand somewhere between ten and noon, when everything was to arrive.
Because of this, I took my time getting there, particularly since I had my own errands to take care of; I’d even told Dad about them the day before, since he’d played a part before this latest illness. I’d just received the title to my new car during the past week, and needed to make the appropriate changes to my insurance record, so I’d planned on stopping by AAA to take care of that before heading over to the folks’ house and my ‘office.’
What I hadn’t counted upon was that the auto agency isn’t actually the insurance company, despite saying so throughout the paperwork. That task is farmed out to independent agencies – and mine is named on the paperwork, even if it’s nowhere to be found on the payment form – so they couldn’t help me in person; I would have to call the agency directly, and have things updated that way. Which was a bit of a nuisance, but it meant I would be getting to the office that much earlier, just in case the delivery did.
Or at least, so I thought.
I was a little nonplussed at the sight; the very thing I was here for had been taken care of before I’d gotten there. I learned later that the deliveryman had been by before eight, while Mom was still eating breakfast,. Once she let him inside, he brought in all the stuff on his own, quietly and efficiently. Since the purpose of my being here was to make sure that someone was at home when the equipment arrived – and Mom was “someone” – there was no harm done.
I suppose I could have gone over to the rehabilitation center at that point, but honestly, I’d let some work slide in the intervening days, so I took advantage of my presence to actually get some work done. Besides, with Mom now out at her appointment, I needed to be here to let Dad in and get him settled. However, she got home before he did, and so I came up to get some things in order beforehand, including getting sheets on the bed (and repositioning it so he would have a better view of the television) and moving a few other things around, before heading back downstairs to finish up with my ‘work.’
It was at this point that I got a call from my travel agent, asking me if I was ready and excited about my upcoming trip. To be honest, I didn’t know how to answer her, and I told her as much; with Dad’s illness being at the top of my mind, I hadn’t always been giving it as much thought as it may have warranted. But I reassured her that we were making progress toward it all, including having reserved a ride to the airport Sunday morning – especially since Dad had jokingly apologized for being unable to drive us there himself. She seemed pleased to know that his sense of humor was still intact, and offered her best wishes regarding his situation. I didn’t think to let her know that she (and the travel agency) would be informed if the worst happened and he passed away while Daniel and I were abroad; to be fair, in that moment, those plans hadn’t occurred to me, let alone crossed my mind to fill her in about.
But that was mostly because, while I was on the phone with her, there was a commotion upstairs. Now, not only had I missed the delivery I was supposed to have been there to receive, I was missing out on Dad’s actual arrival. And once again, Mom was already up there to pick up the slack.
However, just because I wasn’t upstairs when he came in doesn’t mean I missed out on most of the activity. Once I hung up with Kerry and closed up shop downstairs, there was a lot to take care of. His caseworker came by to check on his medications and get the ‘admission’ paperwork taken care of – which seems odd, to be ‘admitted’ to your own home, but given the material needed to keep him here, it’s understandable. Shortly after she left, the caregivers we’d contracted with arrived to get whatever additional adjustments needed to be made taken care of.
In the midst of all this, Dad had me get him up to use the washroom, and to both of our surprise, it turned out to be a fairly easy matter; seems the rehab they put him through actually did him good. Moreover, the caregivers walked with him through the main section of the house, to ascertain what he was capable of, and he made his way through not only the bathroom, but the hall and the kitchen as well. So for the time being, he seems to be in particularly good shape. That may just be from being in the familiar confines of home, but we’ll take it for now.
And with all that sorted out, I’d ask you to keep an eye on him (and Mom) as well as myself, and wish us all well. Despite the fact that everything went as smoothly as it did – and could have been expected – I’m sure we could use all we could get.
Letters to Rachel 