And On The 7th Day...

Seven days in the hospital, and we finally got some conclusive news on Dad.

All tests were normal, so they are releasing him (hopefully) tomorrow.  He's been off his feet for almost a week, so his legs are weak, and his left side is especially non-cooperative.   He's in no pain, and the INR (coumadin level) is finally good, so off to rehab he goes.  He's had enough of hospital life, so a change of facilities will do him good. 

I took Mom to visit him yesterday.  She snuck him in a little treat.

She wrapped it in her sweater to keep it cold.

Dad was a bit discouraged when we first saw him, but the milkshake perked him up.   Three hours later, the doctor arrived to give us the news that Dad could move to rehab, and that lifted his spirits a bit more.  

We're hoping Dad can get into the same rehab Mom was in after her arm surgery.   They have an excellent, new gym and free coffees and teas in the lobby.   

My sister is coming down in about ten days, and the ex-clown will be back for work in another couple weeks, so Dad will have some extra cheerleaders around soon.   He's been through rehab so many times, he groans a bit at the work ahead.  I think an occasional milkshake will be a good shot in the arm.  

In other news:  my husband is gone for a few days visiting his parents in MD, and we've been able to skype a couple times.   Our heads are either half on the screen, or we're all in shadows.  A friend remarked that we look like we're in the witness protection program.  

We discovered a new pie shop in town called Sweetie Pies.  The ex-clown swears Joan, the owner, makes the best cherry pie he's ever had.  So, we're eating more pie these days than we need to.  

Thank you, Lord, for milkshakes and pie and shady cameras and good doctors and hospital socks. 

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