Dad Update

My father has been at Stanford Hospital with my sister Sharon since 7:30 this morning.
My little sister isn't little anymore - she'll be 30 in April.
She's incredibly solid, mature, supportive of Dad and me, and able to deal.
I deeply admire, appreciate and adore her.

This morning they did motion tests on my dad, after he'd been off his medication for 24 hours.
It's hard for him when he doesn't take his medication, his tremors are really strong, and it's hard for him to walk.
Then they drilled 4 screws into his skull while Sharon looked straight into his eyes and held his hand.
The screws are where they will go into his brain tomorrow morning to find the ideal spot to put the deep brain stimulators.
Apparently he'll have to let the security people know at the airport, because the screws will set off the metal detectors.

In a few hours they'll do a CT scan and an MRI, which will help them pinpoint the perfect places in his deep brain where the DBS will go.
It's all just so science fiction.
On one of the websites about the procedure, it says doctors don't really know why it works, but it does.
My friend Michelle, who's a doctor, says that a lot of medicine works that way.
The body, especially the brain, is such a mystery, even to those who go through years of medical school to learn how it works.

My father is a brave man.
His moxie is coming back after years under the influence of harmful drugs and escapism.
His vision is toward the future, a better future than the past decade has been for him.
He wants to travel, play tennis again, get his teeth fixed, get his dignity back.
He told me last week that he's not getting free food from Meals on Wheels or Second Harvest anymore.
No more handouts if he can afford to pay for it himself, and food he can pay for.
It's good for his self-esteem, and that's what needs rebuilding now after years of neglect.

People in my life, including my husband, who have only known my dad in this incarnation, are noticing this "new" side of him.
It's not new, it's just reawakening.
It gives me hope.