The rescued hatchlings lived through the night. I feel better now. I’m letting the kids sleep in and then we’ll drive down to the wildlife rehab place.
The only sound other than the constant hum of various PCs is the burbling of the fountain. Okay, and occasionally the dog throwing herself at the patio door in an attempt to reach the squirrels. The kids are sleeping. The cats are quiet. The birds are momentarily content. I’ve been terribly lazy and there’s no laundry going yet and the dishwasher is mostly empty. Very, very quiet. Unusual around here.
My father is having major surgery on his neck at 10 am. I should be there and I know that my good daughter stock is going down. However, he brought up the fact that he isn’t just in the same hospital, but in the same wing where Katie’s father died in 1999. And if I go, I’ll have all three kids with me. And I don’t really want to provoke a depression/grieving relapse in Katie. Nor do I really know how long the other two will be able to quietly amuse themselves in a hospital setting, and I don’t want to put any of them in a situation where they are guaranteed to get in trouble—that’s stupid.
After Daddy recovers from the neck surgery, he has to have the same thing done to his lower back. He had a fusion there in the mid-70s and I guess the warranty ran out.
He’s such a big, capable, physical man that it’s been very difficult to imagine him laying in a hospital bed. Again. The mid-70s surgery was really hard and recovery took a long time. I was about 10 then. Maybe I don’t want to go to the hospital to protect myself as much as Katie?