Chez Rozarie

Dad really was not fooling around with the back thing.  He should never have had physical therapy on it: "The Doctor (neurologist) is really mad at the orthopedist for signing me up for physical therapy." Please see my previous entry - Dad WANTED PT... Turns out his disc was ruptured and had to be removed (between #1 and #2).  The medical folks saw this on the MRI he got on Wednesday, called him in to the doc's office on Thursday (conveniently located at Bridgeport Hospital).  Neuro doc said he was staying there, to have surgery on Friday early afternoon. Said surgery was done.  In the meantime, Mom needed to be "covered".  Thursday we managed, with my wonderful Aunt and Uncle stepping in (thank you again!).  My sister picked Mom up, brought her to the hospital.  I met them there after my gig at Housatonic CC was over. Mom came back home with me: "I'm so confused...where are we going...why do I live with you...where's your father...is he g...

Dad is in pain.  He wanted physical therapy for his shoulder, got it.  Then after that was over, he wanted more for his shoulder so they extended it.  Then when that was over, he wanted more therapy.  And he got it extended. His back started bothering him, so he went to an orthopedic person.  That doc suggested therapy.  Dad went to therapy.  He likes therapy. Cheerfully, he went to therapy for his shoulder Mondays and Wednesdays, his back/hips/legs on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  He said it was good.  Shoulder therapy stopped.  Back therapy continued. Then last week, Dad said, "Ahh, Jeez, I can't even walk."  We heard that one night after he and Mom came home.  He was walking.  This happened before, and that's when he went to the orthopedic person.  He said exactly the same thing. So, silly me, I asked, "Did you call the doctor?  Prewitt?" "I'll call him tomorrow." Dad got an appointment, went in, doc sa...

My new nickname is "The Warden".  Dad was talking to one of Mom's doctors last week, and looked at me, saying, "Well, if the Warden allows it.  She tells us what to do, and if we can do stuff or not." Those of you who know me know that is partly true.  I admit it freely.  I am bossy.  Given the alternative, this is a necessity in my life.  I don't always know when to stop being bossy (don't lose your coffee here, friends).  As far as the 'rents are concerned, however, it is a requirement. Dad is a hoarder, and we have to make sure he doesn't stash his crap everywhere because getting it out of where he puts it can be impossible.  We now give deadlines - "you can keep this until Saturday.  If you don't find a place for it, we are throwing it out."  Another reason for the nickname. Last week on Sunday, my sister and I ganged up on Dad - she was on one side, me on the other.  Dad couldn't move away.  He was cornered.  Da...

Have you ever noticed that some people are obsessed with their own funeral arrangements?  Like they will be able to oversee it all, and make sure their wishes are actually followed? I met the 'rents at the vascular doc today, for my Mom's post-op ultrasound of the subclavian arterial stent.  All the stuff that is supposed to flow up is flowing up, the down is flowing down.  Doc used other words, but that's what he meant. While we were sitting in the waiting room, Dad felt the need to ask me if I was going to a wake.  His brother's daughter's husband's mother died (my cousin's mother-in-law).  She was a nice lady the 2 or 3 times I met her, but I didn't feel the need to go to the wake, and truly never even thought about going until he asked me. That, of course, led to a discussion of all of the people he knew that had "the cancer" or other problems.  I kind of pretended not to listen to much, adding a "WHAT?" every once in a whil...

Dad is having some back issues.  I think he kind of wanted surgery - I know, who wants that?  I reminded him, though, that if that happened, he still would have to come home and do stairs.  So he is doing physical therapy for his arm (still...), and now he's going for his back, too. When the 'rents first came back this year, Dad wanted a new chair for his room.  He said the one he had in there wasn't comfortable.  So I had him try the chair I had in our room, and he liked it.  We moved it in to their room in May, and I moved a nice oak rocker from the living room into our room.  Dad didn't want the rocker.  "I don't like rockers." Everything was fine until two or three weeks ago.  He had come back from the back doctor, and I came home to find him on the couch.  Now, the day before he was taking a nap on that same couch.  Keep that in mind. "Aw, Jeez, I can't sit on this couch anymore.  It's killing me." I made the mista...

Do you all remember the first car you remember riding in?  Maybe it was your Dad's or your Mom's car, or a neighbor's vehicle, or grandparent's ride.  Dad bought/leased a new car last week - a Nissan Rogue.  It's a medium size SUV.  Mom already knows it is their new car, and has showed it to me several times: "Judi, come and see our new car - that is our new car, isn't it?" The first car I remember was an old blue Pontiac.  Dad was partial to Pontiacs - it had some sort of fins on it.  We had one car until I was seven - that blue Pontiac.  Then Grampa died, and we got the green Oldsmobile, and kept the Pontiac.  Dad got the new Olds, Mom got the bomb. The Olds was olive drab, with really nice leather seats.  We liked the bomb a lot.  First, Mom was the primary driver, and she was CRAZY.  We loved it when she drove on the Burma Road (Lordship Blvd for those not familiar with road nicknames).  That road through the swamps ha...