He remarked today, "My, you've taken time off from work to travel to Spokane (for Fall Family Weekend) and yet here you are taking me to the doctor three days in a row this week."
"Yeah, Dad, you're right. It's the vagaries of my crazy work schedule. Thank goodness I've got the time."
This week I don't work until Friday. If I had looked forward to a block of free days, the universe clearly had other plans for me. My Dad, fortunately not sick-sick, has needs that involve visits to multiple medical specialists this week. As the doctor-daughter, I accompany him and as he acknowledges, "know what ropes to pull" to make the most of his appointments.
The goal is to get him feeling better. I believe we may be making some progress. Slowly.
I have to admit that I'm hoping beyond hope that his health holds steady. Two weeks from now Denny and I leave town for our son's wedding. Mom and Dad won't be attending, a fact that makes me sad but one that I accept. Traveling at age 92 when both are in fragile health is ill advised.
As Dad and I drive back and forth to the clinic this week, I'm finding myself praying mightily that he rallies. Please; no calamities of health for neither Mom nor Dad while we are out of town celebrating this once in a lifetime event.