I finally feel like I can take a breath. There is nothing worse than taking someone to hospital for what you think might be minor and being told it's major. Then, of course, it's thinking about whether you did something wrong, or failed to do something, or...
Fortunately, the aged parent's condition has now stabilised and will be off to the rehab unit tomorrow or Thursday. I have spoken to the occupational therapist, the speech therapist, the nurses, a doctor, ward sister, another therapist and then informed family members until I don't know what I've told to whom, or whether I've repeated myself.
The house is quiet with just me - except for the usual house settling with the change in weather and temperature - and yeah, it's a little eerie. But there's plenty to do for when the parent does return. Which means I need to get back to the major spring-cleaning housework - I still have to set the 'book' room to rights after the installation of the new carpet. It looks terrific, but still has that 'new', obnoxious smell to it.
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And pray for New Zealand; they need all the help they can get.