It’s been rather rough the past week or so.
The reality of our dad’s stroke has thoroughly soaked in. There’s only a sticky residue on my skin now. I can’t wash it off. This situation is the new normal. It’s going to be with us as long as our parents are alive.
There’s way too much to be done to wallow in the deep, warm pity pool, feeling sorry. These are the cards he’s been dealt. He can’t fold and walk away from the table. This hand has to be played.
The good news is that it’s not just me. My brother, and our aunt (my mom’s sister) are at the table too. We can help each other make decisions as to how to play things out. But at best, this comfort is fleeting.
It’s like being on a golf team that suddenly is being asked to jump in the pool and play water polo. The learning curve is steep. There’s no time to practice.
Today marks the one-third point in what the doctors say is about a 60-day period when the most recovery and rehabilitation is going to happen for him. After that, where he is, that’s where he’s going to stay. But that’s only with respect to his mental state and physical capabilities. There’s a lot more too it than that final “assessment.”
There’s where are they going to live, my mom and he? How are they going to interact? How much of their stuff will they be able to keep in their new place? How often will see them now that they can’t drive any more? What’s their quality of life going to be now?
All these questions will be answered in due time. We’ve got to play each card and see how the game unfolds.