Transport

Was stirred from a very deep dream this morning by my father’s primary physician calling to tell us he'll be released today.  Never quite recovered, and felt extremely lethargic all day.  My father has grown increasingly willful these last few days.  He was adamant about not being transported to the care facility when I told him he was being discharged.  “Maria, I’m not up for the trip.  I don’t want to go.”  I tried to ease his anxiety with a mix from my ipod – Sinatra, Ella, Chet, Etta.  Our intertwined hands moved to the beat, he smiled and was a willing patient when the EMTs wheeled in his gurney.  “I’m scared”, the first time I’ve heard him utter such words.  “Of what?”  “The drugs, what they do to me.  I’m too old.”  And then he crushed my heart, “I’m scared of you going home.”  In 48 hours I’m supposed to be on a flight to LA. I was already much happier with this facility, the nurses were attentive and food is edible.  My father is in much less pain, and is not as loopy as he has been although he is still disoriented.  "You know", he told me, "they took me here in a hearse."