Dad was looking a lot better on Thursday. Within the space of an hour there, I was accosted by three different people asking exactly the same questions about my dad. First the physio, then the doctor, then the nurse. It was all about living conditions, who would be caring for my dad when he left hospital, what kind of help we'd need from social services.
It was pretty annoying as my answers were not going to change in the 10 minute intervals between each questioning session. On the other hand, it should be a relief in a way that social services may be getting involved. My mum ended up filling out a rehabilitation form with questions such as: "Will you need help with laundry?" It's quite hard now to envisage what help we'll need - it depends so much on dad's recovery. But we will need help.
Speaking of recovery, dad took a few steps with no support. It was wonderful! And then on Friday, he had a new physio who spoke very clearly for him. She was hardly supporting dad at all with the belt as he pottered carefully along the corridor with a light walking stick. She even made me have a go at semi-supporting him so that he could practise walking when the physios aren't around.
I finally managed to spend the weekend with my husband up in York. Dad knew I wouldn't be around to visit and with the TV on the blink, he begged for us to get a portable DVD player. On Saturday, my brother relented. And mum brought over a very long running Chinese soap opera on DVD. He's absolutely addicted now.
My mum's acupuncture needles didn't seem to be finding the right qi. An acquaintance with more years of experience came down and inserted extremely long needles, especially into the sole of the foot. Behind the drawn curtains my dad yelped terribly. The other people on the ward must have thought he was being tortured.
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