the girly who shall end all girls

i am not currently over the Rockies, i am in a hotel room in Glen Burnie, MD for my sins.

as is apparently the rule now, severe weather on the east coast turned a three hour highway trip (from central PA to BWI) into seven, complete with highway closures and detours onto unplowed roads. my brother B is in the other bed, snoring. he is the hero of the day, driving in horrible conditions, helping me to decide when to give up on making the flight and call the airline, and getting us into a hotel. as it was, it was so fucking close...i would have arrived at the airport exactly as the plane was taking off.

i was supposed to have tomorrow at home to decompress. i was supposed to walk the dog and go out for breakfast and take a nap and cry as much as i needed to.

* * *

i did everything i was here to do: got Dad to his last specialist appointments, moved him out of skilled nursing near Pittsburgh and into assisted living near State College, did all the errands and shopping required, set up all the electronics, moved a refrigerator, made five hats, replaced the blinds in the office, knit a gift for a physical therapist, cleaned the sewing room, hung a quilt and art on the walls, sat in on meetings with the assisted living director and a call with the attorney, and made Mom a roll of bias binding. i also tore up the frostbitten marigolds.*

i drove a lot, and i sat through a lot of Hallmark Christmas movies. (remember when Stuff White People Like was a thing? those movies, wow. they deserve a post.)

i am not entirely ready to talk much about how Dad is doing, but i will note that he is not suffering from dementia and for that i am deeply grateful. Mom is doing pretty well, considering, and i enjoyed visiting with her and we managed to not yell at each other too much. (we have a lot in common, which makes conflict inevitable.)

i miss C so much, and i am carefully avoiding looking at work stuff.

and trying not to be angry that i can't go home on time. again.

*i like to look at plants, but i don't like gardening, especially going out in the cold rain to pull up dying plants with mushy leaves.

the last couple days have been hard.

Dad is too weak to walk and while he has strong grip and can lift his arms he has real trouble filling a spoon or aiming it at his mouth.

he is bordering on combative when he can't get what he wants. ( cut for bodily function talk ) he starts thrashing around and refusing to listen and saying odd stuff.

"Trump! I need to Trump!"
"Master and Commander. I have a 26lb master and commander."

he is different than he was after the first surgery of this trip (or my memories of previous surgeries) and I am starting to get scared.

* * *

Dr. G has a lab coat with frog closures. I don't think I've seen that before.

* * *

Eventually he's going to move from the regular hospital to inpatient rehab, which is in the building next door. I'm glad of this - he will get wheeled across a skybridge instead of loaded in a transport, and his medical team won't change.

I spent part of today buying groceries and a lunch bag so that we can spend less on eating out. Mom is starting to fret about the cost of being in Pittsburgh that we're past the original hospital discharge date and there's not a clear exit. I have already told work that I won't be able to attempt to log in until late this week.