The road less travelled...

The hospital released Dad yesterday and I drove him home. He was draped over the back seat and every third comment was how peculiar it was that he was sitting there like that while I drove. I don't think he'd ever seen the back seat before!

So we're home now. We bought a wonderful huge recliner for Mum when she got sick (she used to almost get lost in it!) and while he was in hospital, he said 'We will move it around so that it faces the TV and I can spend my days there.' Um, we? That would be me and the dog, I suppose. So when we got home yesterday to a stinking hot house during a stinking hot day 'we' moved the chair. That involved moving the table. Then 'we' (let's continue his little fantasy) unpacked a chock-a-block car and put everything away before 'we' collapsed in a sweaty heap in front of the TV. *lol*

He has also discovered the perils of his situation, as he threw one of the dog's squeaky toys at my yesterday as I was getting up and then asked me to get him a drink. I will say that he did eventually get his beer, but it took a bit of grovelling...

The hospital released Dad yesterday and I drove him home. He was draped over the back seat and every third comment was how peculiar it was that he was sitting there like that while I drove. I don't think he'd ever seen the back seat before!

So we're home now. We bought a wonderful huge recliner for Mum when she got sick (she used to almost get lost in it!) and while he was in hospital, he said 'We will move it around so that it faces the TV and I can spend my days there.' Um, we? That would be me and the dog, I suppose. So when we got home yesterday to a stinking hot house during a stinking hot day 'we' moved the chair. That involved moving the table. Then 'we' (let's continue his little fantasy) unpacked a chock-a-block car and put everything away before 'we' collapsed in a sweaty heap in front of the TV. *lol*

He has also discovered the perils of his situation, as he threw one of the dog's squeaky toys at my yesterday as I was getting up and then asked me to get him a drink. I will say that he did eventually get his beer, but it took a bit of grovelling...

Thanks to all for the hugs, tea, and general sympathy. Dad had his surgery yesterday and although he was very dopey last night, he came through it as well as he does generally. (As a person who gets violently ill as a result of an anaesthetic, I'm supremely jealous of that skill!) He's had a plate and two screws put in. The plate may stay there unless it causes a problem, but screws are generally removed after a time, so this looks like turning into a mini-saga. He certainly won't be able to go to Antarctica, as my uncle (a physio) has told me that this sort of injury will need the plaster to be on for four weeks, and you can't fly in that condition. Fortunately he can cancel and get his cancellation fees back from the insurance company.

Thanks to all for the hugs, tea, and general sympathy. Dad had his surgery yesterday and although he was very dopey last night, he came through it as well as he does generally. (As a person who gets violently ill as a result of an anaesthetic, I'm supremely jealous of that skill!) He's had a plate and two screws put in. The plate may stay there unless it causes a problem, but screws are generally removed after a time, so this looks like turning into a mini-saga. He certainly won't be able to go to Antarctica, as my uncle (a physio) has told me that this sort of injury will need the plaster to be on for four weeks, and you can't fly in that condition. Fortunately he can cancel and get his cancellation fees back from the insurance company.

So, it's a glorious Monday morning (what do you mean, you're suspicious already?), the sun is shining (why would you think I'd be leading up to something?), the sky is blue (not very trusting, are you?) and it's going to be a stinking hot day (what do you mean 'that's not it'?). I have my thesis to edit, having written the last of it last week (you still don't think that's it?).

Oh, yes, I'm at our weekend house in Warragul.

(Yes, you're right, that's it.)

I got a call at about 4pm yesterday, when Dad was planning to come home. And I quote:

"I'm in hospital. I've fallen down the bank and broken my ankle."

*headdesk**headdesk**headdesk**headdesk**headdesk*

I sorted my things and jumped on a train, so I was down here by 8.20pm. One of our neighbours picked me up, drove me back to the house and I got Dad's car. Then I went to West Gippsland hospital and there he was. He's apparently broken his fibula in one place (one of the two bones in the lower leg) and also his ankle joint. He's being transferred to Traralgon Hospital today and they will operate this afternoon. I wanted him transferred to Melbourne, but he would have to wait longer for surgery. I suspect he will be in hospital for at least the rest of the week, as they're going to put pins in and they won't get him walking until Wednesday. I presume he will then have rehab. rather than coming home. *sigh* My typical bloody father - why couldn't he just break his leg like normal people?!

Mum would kill him. She seriously would kill him. At least, she would if she hadn't set this whole thing up. I swear, it's all her doing so that he can't go on his long-planned trip to South America and Antarctica in January.

Ironically, it's almost exactly 25 months since I got an almost identical phone call to say that it was Mum in West Gippsland hospital and we began to cancer cycle. It's NOT happening this time. *determined*

So, it's a glorious Monday morning (what do you mean, you're suspicious already?), the sun is shining (why would you think I'd be leading up to something?), the sky is blue (not very trusting, are you?) and it's going to be a stinking hot day (what do you mean 'that's not it'?). I have my thesis to edit, having written the last of it last week (you still don't think that's it?).

Oh, yes, I'm at our weekend house in Warragul.

(Yes, you're right, that's it.)

I got a call at about 4pm yesterday, when Dad was planning to come home. And I quote:

"I'm in hospital. I've fallen down the bank and broken my ankle."

*headdesk**headdesk**headdesk**headdesk**headdesk*

I sorted my things and jumped on a train, so I was down here by 8.20pm. One of our neighbours picked me up, drove me back to the house and I got Dad's car. Then I went to West Gippsland hospital and there he was. He's apparently broken his fibula in one place (one of the two bones in the lower leg) and also his ankle joint. He's being transferred to Traralgon Hospital today and they will operate this afternoon. I wanted him transferred to Melbourne, but he would have to wait longer for surgery. I suspect he will be in hospital for at least the rest of the week, as they're going to put pins in and they won't get him walking until Wednesday. I presume he will then have rehab. rather than coming home. *sigh* My typical bloody father - why couldn't he just break his leg like normal people?!

Mum would kill him. She seriously would kill him. At least, she would if she hadn't set this whole thing up. I swear, it's all her doing so that he can't go on his long-planned trip to South America and Antarctica in January.

Ironically, it's almost exactly 25 months since I got an almost identical phone call to say that it was Mum in West Gippsland hospital and we began to cancer cycle. It's NOT happening this time. *determined*