Dad's recuperation is moving right along. The doctors and nurses all say he's progressing well. When we walk him around the hall, he can barely move but he still stops to tell jokes to the nurses and shake hands with other patients taking their walks. Our main goal in life at this point is for dad to pass gas which we never thought we would be wishing for in a million years. Ransonettes are notoriously gassy.
I'm back home now and can't wait to crawl into my own bed. After 5 days in Houston with mom and dad though, I still feel like I should be up there. I really wanted to be there when the oncologist talks to them but I have to get back to work. Mom and dad should be back home this Thursday or Friday.
Dad asked us and the nurses if we ever had weird dreams when we were on the post-op drugs. The nurses said that all the patients up and down the hall want to tell them about their weird dreams. (I repeat that I have never met a nicer bunch of people than ALL of the people who work at Methodist Hospital.)
I asked dad what his weird dream was and he said, "Me and that guy from ER, George Clooney, were shopping for folders." My dreams about George Clooney are much more interesting.