So my parents drove six and a half hours recently to Pennsylvania from New Hampshire. The point was to look after me while I recuperated. Before I continue, let me tell you the story my mother always tells about her recovery from her first two bunion surgeries.
My mother had her first surgery while I was home from college. It must have been my junior year because my father was in a wheelchair, and I would have to put on his special stockings and help him into his car. I would get up, let the dogs out, help my dad, feed the dogs, make my mom breakfast, and spend the day helping her. If I went out I brought her magazines and little treats. When she had her second operation, I was at school, but my sister and dad were home. My mom was upstairs in bed, yelling for someone to help her. So, she's not supposed to even be up, but she goes down the stairs on her butt only to find the lights are out and no one's home. A short while later my father and sister come home laughing. They'd been out to lunch. "Did you bring me anything?" my neglected mother asks. "Oh, we didn't know you'd want anything," they respond. My mother loves to tell this story, so you'd think she's be a good caregiver, plus she has 40 years of experience as a mother.
The dude leaves for work at 8:00 am. So I'd expect that concerned family would show up at 9:00 or so. Yesterday, my mother, father and the two dogs show up (they're staying with my sister) at 10:30. Bear in mind, I'm not supposed to get up from the couch except to use the toilet, and when I do that I am unsteady on the crutches. Today, my sister stays home from work. At 12:00 I call them, "where are you?" Thank god I asked the dude to get me ice before he left. And food. He was running to the fridge at 8:01 when he supposed to be at the busstop. Today they got here at 1:00. I blame my sister. They did ask me what I wanted from Wegmans, so I guess that's something...and they did wash my hair.
More work on the Christmas fairy elf. She's got a head and a tree but still only one leg.