scrubjayspeaks

Dad died yesterday morning.

The plan had been to bring him home, since insurance wasn’t going to cover any time past that on comfort care. The hospice service had their truck break down, though, so didn’t deliver the hospital bed when they were supposed to. So we were at home, waiting on them, when he died. Which is exactly the sort of bureaucratic cock-up that seems to plague our lives.

I had seen him Wednesday, though, which ended up being his last (comparatively) good day. He was coherent enough to talk to me a bit. He seemed, in that strange twilight way some people get at the end, to know what was coming. It was the best experience I could have hoped for under the circumstances, so I’m grateful.

I’ve spent the week sick. A covid test came up negative, and I don’t have any upper respiratory issues. It’s just a fever and the worst headache and stiff neck of my life. Maybe it’s meningitis--that sounds exciting. I don’t know, it’s not like there’s been any time for me to seek medical care.

Neighbors and people at work had been very kind in offering support.

Lewisia: 1 new piece written

Day job: 40.5 hours, a mix of going home early and staying late

Gardening: succulent club meeting

Listening: Wasteland, Baby! by Hozier (I debated going for something instrumental, but this ended up being basically as soothing by virtue of delivering exactly what one would expect from a Hozier album)

Other: unloaded hay

*sigh*

Dad ended up in the ER on Tuesday and didn’t get released until Saturday. Very long story short, catastrophic anemia, cause unknown, two pints of blood. At least this was the closer hospital, so mum didn’t have to drive as far to visit him.

He got in a screaming match with her within thirty minutes of getting home. Because being told “please do not do things that will wear you out, because you may drop dead of it” is the worst injustice he’s ever experienced. And also because mum getting emotional about him just doing random shit and not listening to anyone qualifies as being mean to him.

I’m just saying, it was really nice having him out of the house all week. Great not having to put up with his temper tantrums and his sulking and his criticisms of the exact methods by which his wife waits on him hand and foot.

Nice, quiet week.

Anyway, it’s been a year of testosterone and I wanted to be super happy about that. The household miasma of misery and spite kind of put a damper on that.

Lewisia: 3 new pieces written

Day job: 34 hours, mandatory day off #2 of 5

Cooking: these pretzel biscuits, which were a pleasing novelty, a blueberry lemon layer cake of no particular source and deranged execution to celebrate my testosterone anniversary

Gardening: garden club post

Listening: Anniversary by Adeem the Artist (always a joy), Wrabel’s single “the village” with the Trans Chorus of Los Angeles (Youtube is allowed to present me with new music if this is what it blesses me with, please excuse me while I bawl my eyes out)

Aftermarket Parts: one year! 🎉✨🎉

Other: unloaded hay, donated blood (not specifically because dad is using it all up, but not NOT because of that)

*insert gif of Inigo Montoya saying “no, there is too much, let me sum up”*

18th: get informed at work my dad has been hospitalized due to a heart attack (again), have to wait to be picked up because my car is still in the shop and now needs a new computer
19th: arrange to work five-hour shifts so I can visit him in the ICU daily, stuck driving to work in the old ranch truck (lacks functional passenger door, passenger window, heater, low-beam headlights, functional parking break, and functional gear indicator), my mum develops cough/cold, dad regains consciousness and appears to be doing remarkably well
20th: get call from surgeon’s office that he can’t see me on the 27th, but can reschedule to the 26th, play frantic game of phone/email tag trying to tell them I will take that
21st: find out computer for car arrived but is wrong model (for an automatic, car is manual) and will have to be exchanged
22nd: dad has significant setback and has trouble breathing, additional interventions done, has to be moved to a room with better sight lines because he’s trying to escape in his confusion
23rd: double-check that all paperwork has been completed ahead of consultation, find reference to intake paperwork to be completed via email two weeks ahead of consultation, can’t determine if this refers to the multiple medical histories I already completed (including by email) or if they forgot to send me something more, send more frantic emails
24th: mum has her lost voice due to coughing, clearly has bronchitis if not pneumonia, dad convinces her to stay home and rest and she actually complies, which means she’s truly feeling horrible, leaving me to theoretically rest (since the ranch truck can’t handle that drive and I don’t use her truck) but mostly worry more

What was that I was saying last week about existential dread?

Lewisia: 3 new pieces written (somehow)

Day job: 22.75 hours, and I’m panicking over using up so much PTO when I was trying to save it up for the surgery that now feels like it may never happen

Listening: Goodnight Dreamer by Dreamer Isioma (somehow feels like I’ve always known this album, it just hit so right, though RIP my emotional associations with it forevermore due to circumstances)

Aftermarket Parts: PANIC

Other: commute to and from hospital (2+ hours daily)

For my birthday, my family went to a new section of beach. It had been recommended by the local rockhound group as a good location for finding shinies. It was a very pretty beach with a mix of sand, pebbles, and larger rocks, with lots of driftwood tossed up as well.

I'm still sorting my treasures, so more photos may follow. For now, here are the birds who were busy feeding while we collected.

( Under the cut, click pictures to embiggen... )