He's home again

    Due to the vicissitudes of my Dad's life, I've probably used "He's home again" ten times already, but there you are, he's home again. He could have come home first thing this morning but for whatever reason, the paperwork wasn't ready, so he just hung out in bed. As he hadn't slept the first night, catching up on his sleep further was a good thing. Eventually, when paperwork still wasn't appearing, I went home to throw the laundry in the dryer and maybe to eat lunch, and of course the moment I was ready for the latter, they called and said they were ready for me to take him home.
    But unsurprisingly, that didn't exactly happen either. They had brought him his lunch in the meantime, so he went ahead and ate that. But finally, we were all ready to go. A nurse got him into (onto? whatever) a wheelchair and I met them downstairs with the car. (First they had to give us a notification form that I had to sign that if we thought they were throwing him out too soon, we could appeal. I, at least, was fairly amused.)
    As a newly made cyborg, he now has some extra external equipment as well. Specifically a doohickey that reports back to the cardiologist what his heart is up to, especially at night (since they wanted it within 15 feet of his bed). I got that set up and plugged in, so I think he's good to go, and happy to be home. And even happier to be out of the dang hospital. May he not return any time soon.