|Steps to nowhere|
One day the PT came at 8 a.m. (an hour after Dad had finally gotten to sleep from the night before!), the OT came at 11:30, and the Speech Therapist came at 3:00, thus thwarting any type of bid for a nap or for venturing to Sonic for a large Diet Coke, Dad’s main pleasure for the day on many days. The next day, the therapies were at 9:30, 1:00, and 4:00. There were lots of last-minute schedule adjustments and some cancellations by the therapists, too. The only consistency from the home health agency was the inconsistency. Therapy was hard for Dad; he wasn’t the Road Warrior/gym rat that he had been for 50 years before. He tried to get on the recumbent bike for some extra exercise some days, but mostly he just tried to tolerate the sporadic visits of the therapists and a select few other people who stopped by as he fought off exhaustion.