Even Yucky-er

If that can be imagined -- things are even yuckier than they were nearly two weeks ago when I wrote about being sick.  I was pretty consistently sick all week, but spent the weekend wrapped in a blanket drinking spice tea and watching The Crown, and on Monday I was a little better.  But Monday had surprises of its own in store.

My cousin J -- called to tell me that my dad had taken another fall, but this time had requested being taken to the hospital.  It turned out that he'd fractured his hip, and at first was scheduled for surgery.  The next day, though, the doctors decided that "six to twelve weeks" of physical therapy would straighten him out.  The day after that is when the truth began to spill out, over the dam of distance and hurtling toward me like a flood.

Dad had not been keeping his doctor's appointments, and he had stopped taking his medications.

We found this out because the hospital had assigned a case worker to him, and she looked through his records and then asked for my phone number and my sister's.  The upshot is that he will not be coming back to his old home, but will have to enter long-term care.  I'm going to be driving to San Diego next week to get a power of attorney in place, take charge of Dad's finances, and choose where he'll be living for the foreseeable future.  I'll also be in touch with an elder attorney to help with paperwork and to get a little advice as to what to do.

All of that said, this solves the dilemma of what to do with his house.  I'm going to sit down with his sister and draw up plans to have the house cleaned out and put on the market.  I'm going to take charge of his pickup truck and possibly even bring it home with me.  The drama cousins will have to take care of their own problems -- Dad is not going to be paying further rent for the house, and if they wish to remain there they will not only be paying it, but they'll be putting the utilities in their name and paying the bills, and they will be cleaning it up.  The gravy train went off the tracks.

In a year or less, Dad will be out of money.  According to the case workers, he'll be eligible for Medicaid, but he would have to exhaust his resources before that.  They've already been asking whether he owns his house or not (he doesn't; it's part of a family trust) and how much money he has in savings.

I'm trying to take this all one day at a time.  First, I need to get my semester finished and the grades turned in -- I'm surprisingly far along with that this time.  Next, I need to get the car in shape for another long drive.  Then, I need to drive it, and get myself and the Emperor installed somewhere for about two weeks.  Somewhere in there, the Fabulous Miz J-- will come down from her lofty perch and join us for hijinx and moral support (and for any physical labor that needs to be done).  Her former work as a paralegal will be a priceless help.

In summary, adulting sucks and beginning next week, it's going to downright slurp.