Dad moved today from the 11th floor to the 7th. This room feels a little smaller, and he has another roommate, but (at least in theory) he'll be working towards not having to be in it very much.

He and I frittered away most of the morning waiting to move, and then were both briefly engulfed by the flurry of activity that crops up any time you move around in a hospital. The nurses on the 11th floor sang "So long, farewell" from the Sound of Music as his bed was wheeled off towards the elevators - that was pretty funny, especially when they got to the high note.. "See? that's why I'm a nurse!"

We spent a good deal of time talking to the doctors on the new floor, trying to reconcile the rules for wound recovery to the rules for rehab. I'm quite sure a lot more will be clear after Dad's big bandage change tomorrow. The bandages he has now are getting pretty old, and for the record, they stink (as in, the air around him smells like the elephant house at the zoo). The question tomorrow will be whether or not the vacuum/suction bandage has to go back on, or if it has to cover as much area, or..

Gramma and Aunt Marsha and I headed back over to see him at around 7 (I left around 5), and he seemed pretty pooped, but otherwise ok. This new bed has one of those trapeze hanger/handle things over it -- and Dad just LOVES it. He said he could lift his whole middle off the bed (between the trapeze thing and his right leg) when they were changing the bedding. "Super way easy." He made some mutterings about how much easier the last week and some would have been if he'd had this trapeze thing all along.

New Rehab doctors: Dr. Mejia, and Dr. Fox (who may be a resident, I'll have to check).

Oh, and as I just found that cool directory thing, here's the 'fo on Dr. McDonald, too. I didn't realize she was a professor at Case! Man, some really smart people come from that school.