The "Early Treatment" Continues

My dad is still in the special not-the-E.R.-but-not-a-real-room-either unit, where he has been for more than three days now.

On the plus side, he just returned from getting the brand-new piece of plumbing that will allow him to continue to receive food and medication, which means he can lose the oh-so-comfortable (not to mention -attractive) tube that he's had down his nose for a few days.

I didn't get to see him today, in part because there was no way to know when he'd be taken from his not-real-room to the place where the medical version of a plumber was going to work his or her magic. Given that it's an hour-and-a-half-long trip each way, I have no doubt that had I gone to the hospital, my timing would have been so exquisite that I'd have gotten to see him sleep for five whole minutes before being ejected to a nearby waiting room for the duration.

Instead, I stayed here and wrote draft number 573 of a story for one of my classes, just making my 6PM deadline.

With any luck, my dad will be discharged tomorrow and will return to the rehab hospital, where at least he has his own room.

A real one.