Oxymoron

I’ve been learning the ins and outs of hospitals this past week. It all started last Monday afternoon when I got a call from mom telling me that my dad was suffering a mini stroke. (Now, that’s an oxymoron — mini stroke. There’s nothing mini about it and there’s not a more helpless feeling than when things are beyond our control.) His right side, arm and leg, were numb and useless, speech is okay. Anyway, we rushed him to the emergency room. Four hours later, he was admitted to the hospital. And that’s where he’s been until yesterday.

He was transported to the physical therapy and rehab center. There the therapists will work with him six to seven hours a day to try and get him functioning on his own again. He’s been living in a right-handed world his whole life and this is going to be a challenge for him to overcome; however, we’re optimistic about his progress.