astroaztec: (loose wires)
We got a phone call from the daughter of a patient in the room adjacent to my dad. We now know what happened to send my dad to the ER, but because of HIPAA, not through the official channels. We also know that the incident motivated the social worker to try very hard to move my dad. One possibility was the remote warehouse for rotting humans. Today we got better news. A doctor at a UC medical center has agreed to take my dad as a patient.

Does this mean admission to a hospital? We don't know yet, but we think so. No matter what this doctor can do, that would be the best news we could get. Why? Because the place where we all want my dad to go will take patients directly from a hospital, otherwise there is an interminable waiting list. It's a bureaucratic artifice, but we'll take it.

I was expecting to spend the next week shoveling things into a dumpster and carting books to internet purveyors of used tomes. Instead I may spend it conferring with a neurologist and preparing for long distance transport. The books can wait. The trash can wait. My dad needs to move to a place less than six hours away from the nearest relative.

The UC medical center is yet another hour away along routes which were once traveled only by outlaws. More than that, it's the route to Palomar Mountain. Perchance I'll find an excuse to stop in at the Hale telescope again.
astroaztec: (loose wires)
In the absence of health care power of attorney it is non-trivial to find out what is happening with my dad. Last night he was taken to an ER. It was not until today that any family member received notice of that trip, and we still don't know why he went.

In accordance with state law, the ombudsman tried to quiz my dad about who he wanted to have that power, and the response was insufficient. Even in the presence of power, arranging a transfer to a facility closer to a relative is an exercise in aligning several rolling hoops involving availability of beds, transportation, and at least a brief hospital admission.

The current facility seems to have become impatient, and they plan to move my dad. If they do, he will go from the burbs being built in the territory formerly inhabited only by outlaws to territory so remote that even now it isn't much more than a truckstop -- the current 10 minute drive from his residence would become an hour.

My brother arrives tomorrow. I arrive Sunday. We will sort through a lifetime of material, much that we grew up with, and much added since then. We will be cleaning out Dad's residence with no expectation that he will return.

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