My dad is better. Physically. He seems a lot better than before. But mentally he is either too drugged up or this illness destroyed a lot of his brain cells. I’m not sure how things are in other parts of the world, but here you have a table besides your hospital bed. It has wheels under it. He pushes it away. Then he pulls one side of it towards him. Then the other. If it’s not good, he pushes it away. Repeat.
I can not live in this constant survival mode again. After a few weeks you must have something else in your mind, too. My escape from the pit has been Finnish BB. This time around it has been difficult to find a favorite, but I can say I dislike some more than others. The discussion area has been a lifesaver for me, it’s making me laugh. And I can tell you that is a hard thing to do these days.
And I want to thank all of you for commenting. I have no excuse for not responding. But I want you to know that you are greatly appreciated. Really.