So Dad came through the implant surgery fine, only to discover that the cardiologists punctured his chest wall, allowing air to leak in and forcing a partial collapse of his lung, a condition known as pneumothorax. They took Dad to the OR so they could put in a chest tube for draining the air; the puncture will heal on its own. Needless to say, Dad is not pleased with this turn of events.
Me? I'm wondering about the cardiologists. But I imagine all questions will be answered when I arrive in Los Angeles tomorrow, for I'm going out there, sure as shootin'. Checked into my flight and everything. Since I'll be gone only until the Red-Eye leaves Thursday night (back in NJ in time for breakfast Friday morning), I'm not even checking luggage, just stuffing a few necessities into a briefcase.
Of course, because life just isn't complicated enough, the movers hauling the stuff from my parents soon-to be-former house to me just called to say they want to deliver tomorrow. DH refuses to accept delivery, in case there's damage he doesn't notice (he's real bad about noticing things like big gashes in fabric, huge deep scratches in wood, etc.). Le sigh. I have set up delivery for Friday, after assuring the movers that a plane landing at 7 am should allow me to reach my home 10 miles from the airport by 10 am (assuming no delay in LA). I could accept delivery right now, this afternoon. Now I'm thinking I should have post-poned delivery until Monday afternoon. Won't think about that, the plane will land on time. Right?