I went to Springfield – and it snowed all day, by the way, but never really stuck to the road – to see Dad. He wouldn’t talk to me on the phone this morning and the nurse was concerned. Apparently after coming back from an attempt to do a colonoscopy (which was hindered by his refusal to cooperate and drink the dreaded prep juice) he sat rigidly and stared straight ahead. Was this something he did? Well, not to my knowledge.
When I got there, he told me that he had won all the points. He couldn’t explain further, he seemed to indicate, because of the Canadians. But we were getting out of there and going to a fine hotel then he and mom and I would go wherever we wanted – Australia! We’d take the presidential jet because that way the trip would only take 6 hours.
It took a while to sort out. We were, he said, a little north of Sault Sainte Marie in Canada. Although he did tell them that he lives in Shell Knob and the sitter who was assigned to stay with him during the day nearly laughed when I confirmed that the house was indeed in Shell Knob. He was upset that I left early, because of the snow, because it would take me a lot longer than an hour and a half to drive home – I should fly instead. I should leave my car there and fly home and I could get any new car I wanted. We were going to stay there, in the old prison, just one more night before moving to the best hotel. And we were going to go shopping. Mom would be shocked since she’s so conservative while Dad and I are spendthrifts. I was to get the pastor to come look after the house and find a place to keep the cats and dogs and fish while we spent at least 30 days traveling around Australia.
I suggested we take a cruise to Australia. Yes, I really did.
No, that was a horrible idea. It would take too long and there was nothing to see but ocean. What? You drive around an island and then do what? Drive around another island?
It was both hard to leave and really hard to stay. I don’t seem to tolerate this Dad that well. I had time to speak with his nurse and she thought that perhaps his current physical problems might have brought on the delusions. Though they like to call it confusion. There’s a difference, there really is.
I finally got to speak to his doctor while I was driving home. There is a kink of small bowel caught in an inguinal hernia and they will do surgery tomorrow to correct it. I gave consent over the phone. Dad will stay in the hospital a few days because they really want to do further testing and get a full scope done. Part of me feels guilty that I won’t drive back up there tomorrow but it is really hard for me to drive that far right now. Plus we’re playing guess-what-will-happen-next with the weather. But there doesn’t seem to be much point of my being there, either. He’s got good care, he’s got someone sitting with him all the time. He actually seems pretty happy confounding them. And winning all the points.