Dear Girlfriends (and cousin J.),

Mahalo for the nice card from the bookclub ladies to my Dad. He was very appreciative.

And mahalo for all your well wishes and prayers.

Here’s an update. This afternoon Dad was moved from Park West Hospital to Patricia Neal Rehab Center.This was quite an upset to the predictions of last week . . . Without going into all of the details, it’s been a roller coaster ride. Where could Dad go after leaving the hospital? First choice was the brand new VA place; they denied him and we were told that EVERY skilled care or long-term care place would deny him because he’s on PO chemotherapy (pill da kine). We were told we should bring him home. Positive-attitude-me looked at all the ways this could be possible . . . and we tried to wrap our heads around that (not too easy since Dad’s non-ambulatory, etc.). One day at breakfast there were NO options and by lunch we had possibly two. I wrote letters to senators, etc. about the VA–still to no avail but when my sister and I went over there to play the role of bad cop/good cop (long story) they pulled out a file a mile high on him. And why do they have that if they’re denying him . . . ? Anyway, we found a place, he was going there on Friday and then this thing came up (remember, this is the SHORT version). It’s all fine now, but he did have to go off the chemo and food for a few days. He’s now on soft food, chemo should start tomorrow. And in the meantime, he lost his space at that place (very close to my parents’ house).

But here’s the kicker. Since he was in a hospital, therapy was intermittent. My sister and I have been squeaky wheels, so guess what, he had therapy every morning after we squeaked. And get this, he walked 42 steps one day (with a walker and two PT nurses on either side and me in back with the wheel chair for when he got tired), 60 something the next day, 120 something the day after that! and then after a day off he walked 167 steps! So, the staff took notice and lo and behold Patricia Neal Rehab Center said today at 2:15 p.m. they’d take him on a trial basis (5 to 7 days to see if he can handle 3 hours a day of therapy). And I had to give them a decision before 3 because the other facility would only hold his bed till then. I called and left messages with the Mr. Incredibly Wonderful doctor’s phone message centers . . . thought it over, called my sister and thought it over with her . . . and decided, let’s go for it. I gave Dad the scoop, and the bottom line is that if he turned down this chance, a second one wouldn’t come his way. The rehab place wouldn’t take him from a nursing home . . . and if it doesn’t work and he can’t handle it, he can go to that facility (when they have a space, that’s the kicker, the one available Friday was lost, then magically one appeared Monday afternoon, so I’m just believing that another one will magically appear when it’s needed). And the long shot is that Dad can keep improving and maybe be able to come home at some point. We’ll see.

He does have stage 4 cancer (which simply means it’s spread to many areas including the pancreas). But my Dad’s not your average bear. Also, the steroids they’re giving him to keep the swelling in his spinal column down is masking the affects of the cancer and helping to boost his mood (per the doctor and remember how they—steroids—helped Fido 4 years ago?).

So, that’s the deal, pickle.

And in the middle of all this my Mom has gotten new kitchen cabinets, and appliances . . . I think the distraction is doing her good. So after all day at the hospital, we’ve been putting things in drawers. Tonight we were too pooped though to do so . . . so it’s to bed early.

And, it’s COLD!

And I know Tony’s home literally working his okole off . . . and he’s gotten a cold to boot; he’s working so hard so that he can leave Wed. night to join up with me.

Thanks for reading this very long missive and mostly MAHALO for all your prayers. My Dad keeps touching people everywhere he goes. The two physical therapists both were in tears the other day when he hit 126 steps. You should have seen all the people coming by to say bye to him at the hospital (the staff, nurses, etc.) and then to come back to Pat Neal and have people remember him is cool too.

We hope to be able to bring him home for a few hours next week on Thanksgiving . . . please send good thoughts that way too.

Oh, and today he gave his 66 year old bamboo fly fishing pole to the incredibly wonderful doctor . . . he was very moved by it . . . and today is my dad’s 65th anniversary of being enlisted as a lieutenant in the army . . . have I been gone for a year already? It sure feels like it.

Love and kisses and aloha,

Susan