So I'm sitting here at the Holiday Inn Express on the border of Sycamore/DeKalb, IL, having driven like a bat out of hell since 8 a.m. this morning to get here at a reasonable (non-dark) hour, eating triscuits and cheese and drinking Mondavi Fume Blanc, and is quite fine. The wine is fine; the sitting alone, family-less in a Holiday Inn in a strange town (where your father is slowly dying) isn't as great as it might sound. Travel Moms are supposed to go a little nuts when they get out of the house -- room service, bubble baths, champagne...I'm here to tell you that's nonsense. Well, the room service and champagne is nonsense, for the most part.
My father had a major stroke last week, exactly a week ago, as a matter of fact. It was a big bleed, and at the time it wasn't stopping, so the neurosurgeon recommended Hospice, which officially took my father's case on Tuesday. I haven't seen him yet but my step-sister says he did a little better today, stayed awake longer and was more alert.
HOWEVER. There's always a "however" in this story..my poor stepmother, betrayed by a dog, fell and broke two bones in her hand, and possibly messed up her hip. <Insert comment about rain and pouring here. >
I am going to take my wine and take a bath. Goodnight, friends.