Midnight in the Parking Lot of Good and Evil

Okay, correction: I should call this post "...Good NOT Evil" since we are NOT at the shithole Emory Hospital, but nonetheless...

I got a call from my grandfather yesterday and he told me that my dad kept saying my name.  That's a huge step!  Later on during the evening, I got a call from the night nurse, and he told me that my father was asking about me.  That's strange, I thought, because how would the nurse know what my dad's saying? Then he told me I could talk with my dad, which was awesome -- so the nurse gave my dad the phone, and I could hear him say my name and noises like he was trying to speak, but I wasn't able to understand any words other than the universally understood okay's/yeah's/no's.

So I headed up then when Jason got home from the airport, around 10:30p, and {to my even BIGGER surprise} walked in to my dad's room to hear him talking to the nurse!  Now, it's not all rainbows and butterflies at this point because my dad doesn't recognize me.  We had this same scenario last year at Emory, but at that time he also didn't even KNOW he had children.  In fact, he knew only a handful of things about himself.  Flash-forward to now, and although he didn't recognize me, he was able to tell me everything about me.  So that's kind of good.  I was able to get some quiz answers from him {asking how old his grand-kids were, where he went to school, what his children are like} and he responded with appropriate answers.  I found something he said really entertaining, though.  I asked him, "So what's your daughter look like?"  His response was, "Uhh, she's tall... brunette... she kinda looks like you... ...but prettier, no offense!"

?????  Um, thanks??  I mean, I know it was late at night and I was wearing a sweatshirt with paint stains and had my dirty hair in a bun that a 3 year-old would make, but really, Dad?  Gotta love 'em.

Anyways, so it sounds like we're now starting phase two of this mess, which is the recuperation part.  Honestly, if it's going to be anything like it was last year, this is the more challenging part of the whole thing.  Hopefully his therapy can be smoother and more progressive than it was last year.

Keep sending those good juju vibes our way!!!  Lots of prayers, thoughts, and fairy dust needs to be sent over!  ...and maybe a cocktail or three to help us get through it all...

{Oh, and after dealing with St. Joe's staff last night and seeing how patient and personal they were towards my dad, it just makes me want to give a big "fvck you" to Emory even more.}