So, just to catch you all up on the craziness of the past few weeks…
After the dreaded call that my dad was missing things were crazy for a few days, calmed a bit, then got bat-shit crazy again. Here’s how it all shook out:
The original call came on a Saturday. The Guardì called from Dublin to tell me that my father had been reported missing. He’d gone to Liverpool, England and was due to return on Tuesday, the 19th. They confirmed that he’d been in the return flight to Dublin but nobody seemed to have seen him since then. The hospitals were contacted several times, the US Embassy was involved, I was making arrangements to get an emergency passport as mine expired two years ago. Monday I got a call from the Gaurdì. Upon entering Dublin, my father was found to not have his work permit in order and was deported to Boston. We breathed a sigh of relief, knowing, at least, that he was alive in the US somewhere. He hasn’t phoned, but that wasn’t surprising as he rarely phones & I assumed he didn’t even have our number with him since he hasn’t expected to be in the US. Friday night he showed up on my doorstep, obviously sick. And filled us in on the past few days.
While in Boston, with nothing but the clothes on his back and arriving in the middle of one of the worst winter storms all year, he withdrew the $300/day allowed by his bank card until he could book a flight back to the UK. Upon arrival he was denied entry (surprising for someone who’d JUST BEEN DEPORTED!!!!) and was going to be sent back to Boston. He refused to go to Boston because of the weather conditions & his lack of adequate clothing. He was kindly deported to Miami this time. After spending two days in Miami, he caught a Greyhound bus to western Colorado and a taxi to my doorstep.
He was noticeably sick, I’ve honestly seen more color on the recently deceased. I let him rest Saturday & took him to the ER Sunday. In a week and a half he’s had several blood transfusions, one kidney removed and is now learning the lingo of a dialysis patient. All of his assets and records are in Dublin. He has no insurance, no income and mo doctor, so we’ll have to figure some things out. But he does have a very nice room with new linen and a new bed to retire to once he leaves the hospital. Eventually he’ll look back at this time and wonder which was the worse turn of events: renal disease or living with his grand kids