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Dad’s home, doing well. He’s grumping about feeling frail. I told him I felt frail for a while after my surgery, that he just needed to let himself be weak, that it wasn’t a character flaw to be a bit wobbly
Mom bought him an iPod, because he fell deeply in love with mine whilst bed-ridden. So, now I’m trying to get the accursed thing functional. I got it on, but it inexplicably downloaded in Japanese. I know, I know, there’s a box you check for languages, and I distinctly remember checking the “English” box. And it remains steadfastly Japanese. I don’t remember mine being this much trouble. I guess it’s a case of inbreeding or something.
Thus, whilst attempting to Anglify Dad’s iPod, I munch a bit of cheese and dream of a plate full of chicken fried steak, from-scratch mashed potatoes, cream gravy, and green beans cooked with a bit of smoked pork. The food lately has been…well…Mom thinks everyone else should live off her diet of half bananas and canned black olives. I am dearly yearning a platter of tasty homemade food. I’ve tried to cook here, but mom has her own ideas about food and it’s easier to just roll with what she’s thinking than it is to cajol her into something real and satisfying. Dinner tonight plans on being a frozen pizza, probably cut into 1/8ths and we each get a piece. Leftovers will be saved until they are green and furry, then clucked over and thrown away.
Sweet Daddio, I hope to be able to come home on Wednesday. If at all possible, could there be something delicious simmering in the crock pot? I know you’re busy juggling the responsibilities of single-parenting, but I’m hungry, and I want something wonderful and savory.
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Dad may come home today. Technically he was supposed to be home Saturday but he wasn’t doing as well as they’d liked. If he does, and it’s early enough in the day, I may take the opportunity to do a bit of target shooting on the dam. He’s given me permission to use his pistol (very different from mine- a Ruger semiauto with a 13 round clip. Mines just a piddly 6-round revolver). It’s fun to shoot, ’cause you can go BAMBAMBAMBAM. Nice for relaxing, relieving some tension and all.
Mom’s nervous about him coming home, understandably so. He refuses to listen to her suggestions about changing position, or drinking more water, but will listen to me when I suggest the exact same thing. So, last night, Mom and I went over it all, and I coached her on her methods, on being more aggressive and less passive in her wording. Rather than saying “Why don’t you try this” or “Wouldn’t you like a sip of water?” she should say “Do this.” and “Drink this whole cup in 10 minutes.” and offer no alternative. I said she needs to pay attention to how the nurses speak to him, and use that method. I hope she can. It is hard to be (what seems to be) rude to a man laying in bed after major surgery.
My method of handling him is to say “Here’s your water. I don’t care if you pee or not, it’s your kidneys.”
Time for me to go shower and head back to the hospital.
I’m going to have quite a bit of blog reading to do. If y’all don’t mind, I may not bother trying to catch up. If anything major has happened in your life, drop me an email, or leave a note in the comments. I do want to know, but my energies are directed elsewhere right now.