Two weeks before my dad passed, my mom had her 5th hip surgery. Needless to say, I know what to do from checking her in, to checking her out of the hospital. I was there when they wheeled her in to surgery and was in the waiting room, when my sister Margaret came to sit with me. Lo and behold, this is what she walked in the room with and presented to me:
I was sooooo excited. I have been collecting sock monkey's and she found this in an antique store, and knew I would want it.
Now, I have never been one to just sit there and mind my own business and be quiet. I figure everyone in the surgery waiting room is nervous about their loved ones in surgery, so I had him help with a few of the volunteer's jobs.
Why yes, that's him answering the phone when the recovery room calls looking for a family member. He was even checking on the computer to see if he could find out about someone else that was in surgery.
You also know you have been to the 7th floor rehab unit way too many times, when the staff is willing to set you up with an outfit for you sock monkey. Me and my sister decided on the name "Doc" as you will find out in a minute why.
Here is the Scrubs Family. "Doc" is the Grandfather of the clan. "Scrubs", the father of the family, is the purple monkey. My other sister Ann made him for me. He was the first one of the bunch and is very dear to me. One day this year, he brought his girlfriend "Chloe" home to meet us. She is the red one with the cute red hair on top of her head. Before long, they welcomed "Scrubs Jr", the little guy, into the family.
The week after my mom's surgery, Margaret and I went up to visit with my dad at his care center. Doc went along to do a thorough exam on him. He said that he was doing fine. (I have to say, in this picture of him, he did look good, but went downhill fast from there)
As you know, mom is now living with me. She thinks that "it's been 6 weeks since my surgery, I should be able to do whatever I want". Yeah, well mom, remember that the naughty chair is there for your enjoyment. And also, Mr. Dazee will not always be able to bail you out. (yeah, he took pity, only made her sit there 2 minutes, not the minute for every year of her life I threatened her with!!!)
To end this photo essay of the last weeks of my dad's life, I'm adding the one I took of me holding my dear dad's hand the night before he passed away. His hand was just laying on the bed, and I slipped my hand on top of his and just held on, telling him of my love for him, and that it was ok for him to go.
The last few years before their help started going down, I wasn't really close to my mom and dad. But throughout this experience, I have grown to love them both more than I would even have known I could.