We're back.
Dad is better, but not home yet. Turns out the massive stroke diagnosis was thankfully premature; turns out it was an intercerebral hemorrage - which is something from which one can recover. Or however you spell that. I'm too tired to look it up. He's talking, walking with help and effort, and feisty as hell. Flirts with the nurses, forgets some things, but all in all not too bad. As Pearl would say, he's tough.
The girls and I logged 1,753 miles on my butt in that car, and we managed surprisingly well, I think.
I am beyond tired of dealing with the girls and everything and am about to go to bed. Kiss my sleepy head for me.
And oh yes - the cultural shock was profound this time. I'm so glad I left southern Illinois...