Some might say this is from the "whod-a-thunkit" file, but Andy Snider left Royal Jubilee Hospital yesterday morning after 8 weeks and 1 day and is now back in his own digs in South Oak Bay.
It's been an interesting past 24 hours. There's been quite the parade coming through here, all to do with setting up the amount of home support dad needs in order to keep on functioning in a home environment.
The first home support worker was booked to come at 8am, supposedly to help dad get up, bathe and get breakfast.
I got out of bed at 7 to find dad already showered and shaved, and in the process of getting dressed. By 7:30 he had finished breakfast and by 7:45 he was muttering in the kitchen about the fact that I'd had the temerity to use the dishwasher -- which was why he couldn't find the dishes.
Rene, a very pleasant fellow with an accent I took to be French but who is really from El Salvador (maybe if his name had been Jose or Oscar or something I might have clued in faster), showed up on time to find out there was little he needed to do. Help dad button his shirt -- that was about it. They had a very pleasant chat for an hour and then Rene left to help another client.
A nurse from the Quick Response Team then showed up to find out how the day was going and take dad's blood pressure. Oddly enough she -- and a couple of our other visitors -- seemed to find it necessary to SPEAK VERY LOUD AND CLEARLY so they could communicate with dad. She did, eventually, dial back the volume as she realized dad's ears were functioning quite well. And after talking with him, realized that the best course of action would be not to order in any more home support for a few days, and see what he really needs. We can then re-evaluate things after I've had a chance to observe -- and as Yogi Berra reputedly said, you can observe a lot just by watching.
Next stop - the amputation. One of the side issues (pun intended*) from all this is that the tip of dad's right index finger has basically become dead. The circulation was cut off in the same sort of problem that caused the heart attack: clogged blood vessels. The only solution is to cut off that bit of the finger. The date for that has not been set yet -- some time in the coming week -- and that's produced probably the saddest part of this whole affair: dad's clarinet- and possibly recorder-playing days are probably over.
And so here we are: an amazing recovery from a situation that looked pretty ropey 8 weeks ago, when Aidan, Hannah, Amelia and I went up to the hospital. Thank you for your prayers ... evidently, they have been heard.
And with that, I think we can sign this off.
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