(Bonus points for artist/group and album)
I am still in Illinois. And I completely forgot about the wind farms when I arrived the other night (I couldn't see the windmills in the dark and rain and fog). But yesterday morning when I made my way back down to Peoria they were challenging me in the light of Don Quixote from high school english class. There seem to be more and more windmills every time I come home. There are way more south of Bradford now than there used to be, and more there than southeast of Buda. They certainly are imposing. But... I think it's kinda cool driving through them. I did feel like Sir Don, only for some reason there's a tad of Indigo Montoya from Princess Bride stirred in. And the song from this post title popped into my head.
Dad came through the surgery fine. They said his heart is good and he is in great physical shape. His only problem is the 'flying on the ground' part. Dad has never done well with pain killers and that sort of thing. Me, on the other hand, I have always had very good experiences with anything of that sort. But they make my dad hallucinate and freak out. He likes to be in control and he resists to his serious detriment. He has never been good at just 'going with the flow.' So, he was struggling a bit being confined to the bed when I left last night. He was still in the recovery part. There are four people in a room, and that's where they remain until a regular ICU room opens up. They thought sometime today he would be moved to regular ICU, and in a day or two move to a regular room. If all goes well he will likely come home Sunday, or Monday, or... sometime.
All in all it's not been bad, but let me make this perfectly clear: I HATE hospitals. The only good thing about being at a hospital is leaving - and even that's not so good, because the smell sticks in my nostrils. I just hate being around hospitals. Especially old tile-floor ones. And there is no privacy - even just as someone visiting. And I'm not good at the whole small-talk thing while waiting around. I'm sure people think I'm a stuck-up snooty pants, but I just have a hard time keeping my mind engaged. I tend to slip into neutral and zone out of conversations. It doesn't really matter who's there. As I overheard someone suggest yesterday, "Not everyone is good in the social department." Well... I'm sorry. If flying on the ground is wrong... just don't take it personally. I do appreciate those who've come to visit.
Anyway, getting ready to head back down for another round. Mom hasn't left since arriving early Wednesday morning. I did get a call from an old friend of the family who lives in Peoria yesterday, and he's coming for lunch (Smokey). That should be good.
If you're from my side of town... I miss you.
[just so you know... I am not advocating drug use. You can fly on the ground listening to music, with a good book, or in the midst of idle conversation - and I don't know that there's anything wrong with that. Not that it's the same as a morphine drip though, but... just sayin'.]
Peace out; and in.