Putting it Together

Lots of things go into putting together your plans for a trip. The booking of flights, renting of cars, packing of clothes, buying of Earplanes. With Dad in the condition he's in, there's even more detailed planning. He's now officially a candidate for assisted living, although we have to get him completely assessed by his MD before he can be moved to the assisted living quarters at his retirement home.

Part of us feels very selfish about even going on the trip that's, oh, just around the corner. But life doesn't really come with a crystal ball and since I'm no Mystic Meg (although I've been told I look like her. Maybe that's the picture I should use as my Facebook profile, as this week is apparently "Doppleganger Week" where you're supposed to post a picture of someone people say you look like), I have no way to know if Dad will be stable while we're away, or if all systems will fail simultaneously.

So we pray, we hope, and we bring in the artillery.

Friends and relatives who live nearby are being encouraged to just drop by his place and say "hi". So much of his condition can't be alleviated, but what can be lessened is any boredom he might feel; restlessness has never been his buddy.

Folks will stop by and update us on his mood, how he's "seeming". And besides our posse, we also have the incredible staff at the Arms who keep him comfortable, safe, and secure. Sure, you could say they're being paid to do so and they are, but their heart is undeniably in it. You can tell in the way they communicate with him, with us.

"No, you two go on and enjoy your vacation. Dan is in good hands. I'll watch him myself! Just try keeping me away from him!" said one of Dad's healthcare workers, a sassy lady who goes from sweet to jalapeno in a nanosecond.

So our visit to Silver Springs is days away. And then onto the Disney Cruise and ports sun-worhippy, pineapple-scented, and marine blue.

We both need it. And Dad will be fine. We must take this opportunity, embrace it, run with it -- because we don't have the ability to do our scrying, to find out what Dad's health will be like in even a month or so from now.

Deep breath. A smile. Smiling is good for you, clears out the dustbunnies in your soul.

Okay. Now the only worry I have is how very outdated my swimsuit is. And the fact that in just a few short days, I'll be SEEN in a swimsuit, period.