While Dad seems stable, a digression: I've mentioned before my bewilderment at my cat Amelia's favorite word, A-HEE-ya, said (it seems to me) when she wants to play or, perish the thought, needs the vet. Lately it occurred to me that it sounds a lot like me saying "Come here." (I drawl a bit.) So though I don't know what she means when she says it, I think I know where it came from. Not earth-shattering, I'll be the first to admit, but at the moment "not earth-shattering" is my favorite.
Dad had a transfusion of two units of blood yesterday. He regarded it as a trial, for some reason, but endured it patiently. I left a quarter of the way through; it hadn't helped noticeably as of then. An Internal Medicine doctor (Emmer, as I recall) stopped by, and we told him as much of Dad's history as we know and relayed some of our concerns. He wasn't very enlightening, unfortunately, but at least he listened. He had asked Dad if he knew where he is and Dad answered, including the room number. I'm not sure I could have done that, and I go in and out at least once every day. Still in there!
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