Dad is in a rehab center. We found one in Coney Island, close to where my mother lives, so she can get there easily. It's nice... not thrilling... but nice. The people seem to be caring enough. I am going to be keeping a close watch on him just the same.
All of our preferred locations turned my father down due to his weight. Who knew that it is so tough to get a heavy-set man a room? We finally did though. His room has four beds, but he is the only one in there. Let's hope it stays that way. Due to it being a special room dedicated for larger folks, it is also on the long-term care floor, as opposed to a short-term floor. That has the potential to get depressing, so we are outfitting his room with a radio, TV, phone, and a daily newspaper delivery. So he can have his own nice oasis.
I'm flat out fucking exhausted.