The origin of the name “Oregon” is obscure, but to me it means home. Now it is home for my mother as well.
I arrived in California amidst torrential rains on Sunday. I got a couple boxes packed before I packed it in myself. Monday was the big packing and shipping day. Three trips to Mailboxes Etc., bless their little hearts. Twelve boxes of varying sizes and weights. Even going low and slow everything arrived this last Thursday.
Mom was doing much better than I had been lead to expect. Probably because she had something to look forward to, springing her from the rehab facility, her spirits were up, her color was good and she was eating by herself. That last one was a big relief to me.
Tuesday we flew first class to Oregon. Snazzy! You get real glassware in first class. Mom held up pretty well for the whole trip, better than me in fact. I counted ten transfers she had to make to get to her new home at West Hills Health & Rehab:
bed => wheelchair; wheelchair => car; car => airport wheelchair; airport wheelchair => aisle chair; aisle chair => airplane seat; airplane seat => aisle chair; aisle chair => airport wheelchair; airport wheelchair => wheelchair; wheelchair => taxi; taxi => wheelchair.
Add two more transfers at West Hills to weigh her in.
That is not a typo. Mom is five pounds away from a child carseat.
But we’re here and it will be all better now. I can visit frequently, monitor her health, we can communicate better with doctors. I don’t have to get everything accomplished in a limited time.
It will all be better now.