sinanju: The Shadow (Default)
...and in more ways than one.

I'm physically tired. Twoson and I just spent the last couple of hours helping someone move a 725 lb. gun safe. Why? Because he gave me money for it. It used to be MY gun safe. But what with the plan to move into an apartment, and a lack of firearms anymore to keep in it, we didn't need it any more. So I put an ad on Craigslist and on a firearms community forum.

Wow. I got a couple dozen replies. Three people looked at the safe today. The first decided he didn't want it; he wanted a more modern safe (mine was from 1999) with a higher fire protection rating and a non-recessed door.* The second guy seemed interested, but said he had to see if he could use his truck to pick it up. Maybe he intended to get back t me. Maybe not.

The third guy called to inquire before the second guy looked at the safe. I told him someone else was coming to look at it. He called back later in the day and asked about the safe. I said the other guy had looked but that as far as I was concerned, the first guy to offer me money and take it away could have it. Which is what he wanted to hear. He showed up this evening after dinner, looked the safe over, and agreed to buy it.

Which is how Twoson and I ended up helping him wrestle it out of a bedroom, through the living room, out the front door, down the concrete stairs and along hte sidewalk to the trailer he would use to carry it off. Just the three of us. It wasn't easy. The safe was bulky, heavy, and hard to maneuver with only us. Nonetheless we persevered. Even as I type this the safe is on its way to its new home. We have one less (huge, bulky, heavy) object to worry about moving.

So I'm tired from the effort involved there.

I'm also tired emotionally. My father is dying.

That's the first time I've written that.

He had open heart surgery two or three years ago, and he's never been in really good health since. He's been in and out of the hospital and seeing his doctor frequently since. He went to the hospital this past weekend and was there for a couple of days before coming home. He's suffering from congestive heart failure, and at this point he's getting home hospice care from a visiting nurse.

I called home and talked to my mom about flying back to see them soon. I wanted to make sure they were okay with that. She said he'd had a bad day yesterday but was feeling better today. She also made a point to tell me he was getting hospice care. She said, "He's not going back to the hospital, unless...he's not going back to the hospital."

I know he's got a living will. My sister told me he also signed some new form, something specific for the state of Virginia, that my mom keeps handy to present to the EMTs. A DNR order of some kind, I imagine. Or some other medical/legal document for when the end comes, something they'll recognize and respect.

This isn't unexpected. As I said, he's been in poor health for some time now. It's still a shock. Snippy lost her mother a few years ago, and she keeps telling me it's going to sneak up on me from time to time, and that feeling inexplicably exhausted occasionally is going to happen too. I really thought he wouldn't survive the surgery at the time; I flew back to be there the night before, and I remember driving down those winding, hilly Virginia highways like a bat out of hell to get from the airport to the hospital before it got too late that night to visit him.

He did survive, though. He's hung on this long, but I don't think it'll be a whole lot longer. I know he's told me a number of times over the years that he didn't expect to ever get as old as he is. I'm not sure if he didn't expect to live this long, or just didn't give it a lot of thought. His own father died when dad was ten years old, in a farming accident. So I know he didn't have a real role model for being a father to his kids, and probably felt like he was faking it a lot of the time.

He faked it pretty good.

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sinanju: The Shadow (Default)
sinanju

December 2016

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