Unless you have total recall for the doings of strangers, you will have forgotten, but the last DU heard about my Dad, he had been in the hospital for more than a month after a subdural hematoma, a seizure during which he quit breathing for a few minutes, a major heart attack, kidney failure and congestive heart failure.

Since then, however, things have gone well. Granted, he has to go to dialysis three times a week, so rehab progress is slow. Granted I probably picked the wrong nursing home for rehab, so he had great equipment for physical therapy but largely indifferent physical therapists and 23 hours a day in bed the rest of the time. Granted, he's lost weight to an astonishing degree, from 200 lbs to 150, and he's 6'3". However, his mind is unclouded, his strength is returning, and his romance (with another 90-year-old) continues flaming bright. As soon as (I moved him to another nursing home and) he was given his own walker, he could suddenly go to the bathroom himself no problem. So he's about ready to go home, or rather to move in with his lady friend. We'd like to get his weight back up a bit and to get him a little stronger and better coordinated, of course. But it all gives Thanksgiving a special meaning, doesn't it?