I found out today that my Dad has been moved from the big city hospital to the one in our home town. He'll be in quarantine for awhile to make sure he's not bringing and nasty bugs (flu etc) with him and then as soon as there is a space he'll be on the Geriatrics floor and then its a matter of the doctors determining what facility will best suit his needs from now on. His current diagnosis is Fast Onset Dementia with some Delirium. The delirium may go away in time, which I'd been hoping for, but that was before I knew that the doctors had settled on Dementia at last. Its been such a long wait for...nothing. So many fal;se hopes that this was something that could be treated or that would pass when all along its wasn't and now, my Dad, my smart Dad is destined for a "facility".
I'd told myself he wasn't going home. I tried to prepare my mother that he wasn't. Now that I am faced with the actual news that he not going to go home again, I cannot stop the tears. I guess there is knowing and then there is reality.
I don't like this reality one bit.