Monday, Monday

Dad's in the living room talking to the therapist (and talking and talking). I'm in the dining room trying to lose myself on this website. She's trying to convince him to wear his ADT alert necklace around his neck, and he's trying to convince her it's just fine hanging on a picture above his bed. "I can't handle wearing something around my neck, " says my stubborn Dad. "So," she says sounding befuddled. My dad's really good at befuddling people. "You'd rather risk your life than have the alert necklace around your neck, within reach? Hmmm." Good luck trying to understand his thinking lady, I've been trying to figure him out for the last 51 years. Now she's having him take a short walk from the living room, through the kitchen, down the entryway and back to the living room, and he's talking non stop all the way. She tells him she'd like him to walk for about 4 minutes. They're on the third go round when he asks, "What if I fall?" He explains that he already had his exercise for the day 'cause he went up and down the stairs when he showered that morning, and was a bit tired from the excursion. She tells him if he falls she's going to leave him on the floor to see how long it takes him to get to the life alert necklace hanging on the picture frame over his bed. Funny. I like her.

Did I mention he was listening to Andre Reiu last night? One more step toward getting back to his norm. Okay now he's going on about the difference in the food served at St. Joseph Hospital and Madigan General Hospital, how hospitals try to cut cost, sad shape of the country in general and how you used to be able to trust people. "Uh huh," she says, now taking his blood pressure. He's talking about my mom's old walker and how he tried to give it back to the hospital later and they wouldn't take it. Another "Uh huh." Um...the one-sided conversation has just taken a sharp left toward China...and birth control. Doesn't surprise me but I think the therapist is a bit rattled. So now there's a bit of shuffling around as she wraps up the visit, front door opens and a mumbled goodbye as she makes a bee-line to her car sitting in the driveway. As I'm typing these words onto the page I hear the squeal of tires on gravel. Bye-bye.