Dad spent last night in the hospital. Dad does not like hospitals.
Earlier, yesterday, he had an outpatient procedure done on his eye. He went home. Then he fainted.
That resulted in a quick trip by ambulance to the hospital where he was poked, prodded, bled, irradiated, vibrated, breaded and fried.
The hospital determined that he is an old man. As we age we become like tops that are losing RPM. It takes less insult put a wobble into our whir.
The last time he spent in a hospital he could not take a leak without nurses standing by. During the admission process he acknowledged falling. In his mind, there were extenuating circumstances. For one thing, he was carrying a 24 foot extension ladder, the grass was tall and he did not see the cinder block he tripped over. It was to no avail. Admissions (interesting choice of names, "admissions") determined that he had a problem with falling and decided to plague him, an intensely private man, with nurses.
This fall/fainting was for real. His heart rate was slower than expected, although not pathologically slow. He has been a bit tipsy. Like his mother, salt seems to mess up his inner-ear. I suspect that I will have the same issue as I age. There will be no salt on my Margarita glasses. If I fall over I want it to be because of the tequila.
The discharge (another interesting choice of words) plan is to have an adult stay over night at mom and dad's place for the next little bit. We will escort him when he needs to move around. Mostly, it will fall to the sons. It is a dignity thing.
Tonight is my night.