As it turns out, waiting until Friday afternoon to discuss which nursing home you're going to try to move into by the end of the day Sunday is not a terribly shrewd move. I started phoning and wheeling and dealing, but in the end even my magic was not sufficient to bend the rules and regs. They need a PPD, which is a form that certifies that Dad does not have TB. That was no problem; I got it from the dialysis facility. Where the problems came in was that they also needed his medical history, which I suspect I could get somewhere, but what they needed most was a certification from his doctor that he can handle Assisted Living. This is a joke; the people we saw in Assisted Living in general can't handle anything at all. However, this is the rules, and there's no way around it. Neither his primary care physician's office nor that of his kidney doctor were open in the early afternoon of a Friday; the former hasn't called me back and the answering service of the latter refused to page the doctor on call for anything but an emergency.
Sooooooo, we're stuck. Common sense would say to put it off until Tuesday, but apparently he really has to be out of the house Sunday night. So most likely I'll put him up in a hotel for one night, bring him his meals and deal with his paperwork as quickly as I can. Hopefully, we can get all this handled with as little dislocation as possible. Knock on wood.
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