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The Father You Travel...

Much of today was spent preparing my dad's house for him to be sent home from hospital, for the sending-home-from-hospital to never come.

 In a way, we were pleased, as we were worried he wasn't fit enough to come back yet, following the state he was in on Thursday when he was taken in, not to mention the fact he hadn't had the scan on his leg his doctor insisted should happen when he was admitted. As it stands, he has a blood infection that's been treated by antibiotics, plus his leg's still slightly swollen. The initial story we were told when we phoned the ward to double-check when he was being discharged today was that he wouldn't be able to go home until Monday at the earliest so they can keep an eye on the infection or any reactions as a result of it, which led Mum and me to let out a sigh of relief; we'd rather know he was being looked after - and fed and watered properly - than risk him being at home alone until the care we've arranged is in place.

 One thing's for certain: my dad's friends (who came over to help us move furniture today) are fantastic and really care about how he's doing; he's very lucky to have them and it's reassuring they've been giving him a lot of positive reinforcement of the things he sometimes refuses to do. They also obviously have a laugh with him, which is as invaluable as coaxing him out of bed. I want him to have as much normality as possible as I think that's important; just because he's having a hospital bed delivered on Monday so he doesn't have to go upstairs too much, doesn't mean he should stop everything and never get out of it.
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