I slept for the first time in I don’t know when last night. Perhaps I was tired from being in the ER all day – I was certainly hurting from walking to hell and back in the hospital – or perhaps I just wasn’t constantly listening for Dad upstairs and wondering whether I’d find him dead when I woke up. And when I woke up this morning, I felt — wait for it — happy.
I don’t know what happened with the mental status exam this morning. Perhaps he cheated and looked at his watch, or gosh, they have a daily calendar right there on his wall. (tho, this afternoon when I pointed out the calendar he read it as Friday, January 13th) And he does certainly have periods of lucidity. By the time the doctor visited with him, he was unable to answer the same questions except for who he is and where he was. He asked me a couple times this afternoon what I was going to tell his mother. It reminds me of Mom and I pulled out the same old answer I used to give to her when he asked me how his mom was doing. She’s doing the same as she has been, I said. And she is, I suppose.
So, I guess we’re working toward getting him in Red Rose. I feel like this should make me sadder than it does. Instead, I feel mostly relief. There will be stuff to do, decisions to make but he’s safe. I’m not constantly listening and worrying.
Well, except for trying to convince Zoe and Kitty Kitty to get along.