When nine hundred years old you reach, look as good, you will not

The original Jedi Warrior. I thought of that while driving to the hospital today. Old, wise and still strong. He's had the answers for me all my 53 years. Some I didn't agree with but over time I found out he was right most of the time. He wasn't too keen on Robert in the beginning but after all was said and done I got one right. He's not doing too well. He's been in the hospital for two weeks. He's been down and back up. Now, he's what I would call sailing along in a very calm sea. I go into his hospital room and I see a bed and just his head sticking out from under the covers. He's glad to see me. I comb his hair, clean his teeth and wash his face. I tell him I want him to come home. We miss him. He always says, "really?" Yes, really. I haven't heard him say that he can't wait to get out of there. I find that unusual. He hasn't been worrying about being too weak to run his wheelchair around. He just isn't thinking about things like that. When I first get there I tell him about what's going on around the house. Maybe a dog story. Tell him when Cara calls and what she's doing. He laughs when I tell him about my 3:30am call from Stephanie. Betsy goes to visit him with me. She has the route figured out and at some point she starts squealing when she spies a landmark. Most of the time I just sit next to the bed with my hand on his arm. I hope that he will come home and we'll just fall into our routine. Up at 8:30. Price is Right at 11:00. Channel 7 news at noon. I'll take Betsy to respite and pick up a Whopper Jr. for him on my way home. I'll head over to his place with my stampede of beagles beating me to the door. We eat lunch and watch something on HGTV. He's laying back in his chair and is feeling as good as he can. He deserves to feel better but that's out of my control. As much as I want to I can't take away the physical pain. Tomorrow I'll go to the hospital and hope I get some good news. He'll come home. He always does.