Dad gets Icy Blue

Dad's doing great. His therapy this morning was to put on his own socks. Eventually, he should be able to dress himself again and walk, at least, to the bathroom on his own. I visit twice daily, once in the morning to deliver his paper and again in the afternoon or evening, just to keep him from going too long without a familiar face.

At the post-acute care facility he dines with others, and this morning he met a gentleman who was an engineer at Boeing for thirty years. Naturally, they had much in common. Dad was a quality control inspection supervisor for even longer than that.

Dad is a remarkable man. Not only does he know as much about the nuts and bolts of how an airplane stays in the air as any engineer, he has a master's degree in English literature. He was the guy everyone came to to edit reports and to write them. He's more than a scholar, though. In his job with Boeing, he went all over the world, not once or twice, but for years. The only continent he didn't visit was Antartica, and he still regrets that! In addition, he could tend a row of zinnias, fix a tractor, ride a horse, refinish wood cabinets, dig a water well, on and on and on.

He's had Parkinson's disease for nine years now, but he keeps going. More than one nurse at the facility has expressed her surprise to me at Dad's mobility. They've never seen a man with Parkinson's, and for that long, walk as well as he can. I don't mention that a couple days before he was hospitalized he was using his chainsaw on a pile of logs in my yard!

So Dad gets down in the dumps now and then and says he's never going to get out of the rehab, but I know better. Since he was moved from the hospital to the post-acute facility, my worries over his condition have significantly lessened. Now, it's just a matter of time before he's better. In preparation for his return, I took on the task of finally painting his bedroom.

You see, when he moved in with me, it was a rather sudden event, and I had just recently ripped some old and old-fashioned wall paneling from an extra room. The wallboard was damaged, and I had been staring at it for a month or so, wondering how to refinish it. Dad's arrival caught me in the middle of the project, but it was still the best room, the largest and with the best view, to offer him. When Dad was in the hospital, I didn't have the umph, but starting yesterday, I began applying a textured paint in an icy blue shade. The photo below is of my progress. I've painted the wall, but the soffet above is in the same condition as when I first ripped down the paneling. Quite a difference.

I think Dad will like it.

Yes, the popcorn ceiling still needs to go, but that's another project altogether, and I want to be sure the room is cleaned up before Dad returns, which I anticipate will be very soon.