And then I trekked out to the hospital. We'd thought we were done with that.
Poor Dad is delirious. He can't put more than a couple of words together, if that. Can't follow instructions or answer questions. Doesn't know where he is. And the doctors can't figure out what's causing it.
His feet hang over the end of the narrow emergency room bed, where he is now spending his second consecutive night and his third in the past week. It's noisy and busy outside the thin curtain. And it's hard to know if the nurses remember to check on him regularly.
But one thing is certain: his sweet smile is better than all the Valentine's Day treats. It lit up the room and crinkled his eyes when I walked in, and every time he woke up from a nap, he shared it with us.
He might not be able to say our names, but I know that he knows, deep down inside.
Happy Valentine's Day to my wonderful dad, lying by himself tonight in the ER.