My Bad

When you develop an emotional attachment to your own blog, there is a feeling of abandonment when time passes and you have not greeted your good friend. I have been negligent in ignoring this friend as well as those I have made through the readers. So much has been happening with my father, yet I have not been able to sift through the ramifications of it all. My own psychological reaction is as puzzling as the sub-issues. With intermittent communications from my brother, I have grasped the fact that he moved from hospital to nursing home rehab onward to nursing home period. He is still not able to use his left leg or arm, thus making him dependent on others for toileting, moving positions, and other adjustments we normally take for granted. The last e-mail I had received revealed what I had expected; the insurance company cut him off due to lack of progress. My brother suggested a conference call, which he arranged on his end, on this last Wednesday. As it stands, or rather does not stand, the PT fitted my dad's leg with a brace to help him bear weight. She did not like the fit, ordered another one, but it had not arrived at the time of our call. On Thursday, he was to have a Botox injection meant to eliminate the spams he is having in the leg. Also Thursday included a Neuro consult, making for a busy day with high expectations. If the Neuro consult showed improvement was in the offering, the insurance could be reinstated after a hearing. If this is as good as it gets, that is the end of the story. Well, not quite the end. The fork in the road is which path to travel. Keep him in the home or have my brother take him home. If it is the latter, then that means hiring assistance since they both work. There is a bit or resentment brewing that we have been sending my father a check every month after his lamenting on how much debt he was in due to the "WOMAN". Then to find out he was sending our money to some Caribbean island, being scammed was just too much to take. Now I find out, he still has $40,000 tucked away in investments. How that money stayed out of the hands of others, I will never know, but thankfully it did. The house is another issue. After the $40,000 is spent down to $4,000, he can apply for Medicaid, but not receive it until it further dwindles to $2,000. After six months, the house is up for grabs by the State for reimbursing their expenses. We and I use the third person pronoun with a lackluster flair, have six months to get his house in shape for sale. Regardless of the economy trying to surface from the gutter, the Realtor still thinks that the house can fetch over $230,000, boggling my imagination. My parents paid $12,500 for it, struggling to make the mortgage payments. Due to false friends, being a nice guy, and lonely, the mortgage on it now is $170,000. My mother must have done more backflips in her grave than a Guiness World Record holder. This brings out more animosity. My brother shared with me that when he has gone to the house, he has found people staying there at my father's supposed invitation. My first suggestion was to change the locks before they do any more harm that needs financial resources to place it in selling order. According to my brother, most of the house is empty of furniture. God only knows why. It was once fully furnished, though not with the best of the best, it was comfortable. The tasks at hand are the clearing out of the attic and basement, both voluminiously filled with STUFF. No one seems to remember what the stuff is, if it has any value or is just junk stuff. Hidden off of the dining room is a small useless room that had become our storage unit, at least one of them. Now that is a bone of contention needing attention. I am overwhelmed.

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