A nurse from the nursing home called to say that they were going to DC Dad's Dilantin. I told her I didn't speak medicalese and asked if that meant "discontinue." She apologized and said yes. I just said, "I love you!" It just slipped out; I'm sure she took it in the spirit it was meant. I really thought I was going to have to fight and battle and plot and plan. I never expected to win straight away.
Now it's really really important for anyone reading this to remind me: if the worst happens and he does have a seizure and dies, it was still the right thing to do. Because the Dilantin was giving him more and more vivid dreams, causing him to act out in his sleep. Sooner or later, he would have tried to walk, hit his head again and we would have started all over. If we would be lucky enough for him to survive another blow to the head.
Also, progress in physical therapy had stopped. He was well on his way to spending the rest of his life bedridden, requiring nurses to take care of all his bodily functions. This is his chance to get his life back. That said, I'm scared to death. But also feeling more optimistic than any time in this entire adventure. So there.
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