The good, the tough, and the other

My apologies for not posting sooner. I'm sure you all can imagine how challenging the transition home is.

The good stuff: Dad is doing great, moving around more easily and getting stronger every day. His stamina has been improving and he's always up for hopping in the car to visit Mom or go for a drive. He is working hard on his therapies (his care team decided to send him home with home health care for a couple of weeks until he is acclimated to being out of the hospital) and doing anything he can think of in his "down time" to improve himself physically and mentally. His PT is amazed because he's about the only patient she's had who actually exercises on his own! He's doing so well that I anticipate he'll be ready for outpatient therapy by the end of the week.

For the past two Sundays, Dad has been able to go to church. I hear there wasn't a dry eye in the sanctuary the first time when we surprised them! I simply can't tell you what a beautiful thing it is to hear him singing in worship again.

The tough stuff: Since he's been home, Dad has had a heck of a time sleeping. As you can imagine, he's got a lot of stuff swirling through his mind, so in addition to just trying to get used to sleeping where it's dark and people don't burst into your room at odd hours to draw blood, he's also been pretty anxious about Mom and his own health/recovery. (And as you can also imagine, if he can't sleep, neither can Joe and I, so we're all pretty stinking tired.)

Dad has also been experiencing some aching in his left arm and continues to suffer with carpal tunnel-like symptoms in both hands. It's really discouraging to him to have all these "little" things irritating him when there are so many big things to deal with.

Perhaps toughest of all, today we went to Dad's appointment with the neuro-opthalmologist. After several hours of tests, we ended up right back where we started. Dad's eyes are, essentially, perfect. Unfortunately because of the anoxia, Dad's brain is currently unable to process what he's seeing. We are encouraged by the fact that his eyes do continue to improve and the doctor is convinced they will continue to do so for up to 18 months or so from now. The really hard part for Dad was the doctor's prognosis that he will likely never read or (big one for Dad) drive again. But, Dad and I agreed that since he's beaten all the prognoses so far, there's no reason he should stop now. :)

The other stuff: Please pray for us as we continue to try and get a handle on everything. I keep hoping to get a routine down, but with so many appointments, stuff going on with Mom, and goofy personal things (I was down a couple of days last week before having Part I of a surprise root canal. Yippee.) most days we're lucky we have food and clean clothes to wear (which means if you come over to visit, please do NOT look closely at the state of the carpets!). Props to folks who are single caregivers, 'cause I would fall apart. We've got a great group effort going on between friends and family pitching in. THANK YOU to everyone who helps, however obliquely (and huge thanks to my wonderful husband who gets up several times a night to help Dad to the bathroom!).

For anyone who has called, e-mailed, smoke-signalled or otherwise tried to contact me I am not ignoring you. It is most likely that I have attempted to rely (foolishly) on my brain to remember who I need to call, e-mail, or smoke-signal back. If you think you may be one of those people floating lonely at the back of my brain, please try me again. Especially if you are Sherri and you want to share some sushi.