So the grandfather who had knee replacement surgery was transferred from the hospital to a physical therapy center this afternoon, for a 3 week stay. That was about 3 p.m.
By 7, he'd decided he disliked the place so much that he wouldn't stay there until Monday when he could be transferred somewhere else. He hatched a plan and revealed it to me when I got there about 7:30 p.m.
In this little scheme, I play McGuyver. Since my parents and uncle are all in PA and my grandmother doesn't drive, I'm the closest thing he's got to a getaway.
Grandpa decided I would bring a wheelchair to the PT place. How and where I would get the wheelchair were details that seemed unimportant to him.
Then he would sign himself out of the place and I'd somehow get him into his car. I'd drive him home and help him to his apartment, which is on the 2nd floor. How he would climb the steps with a freshly replaced knee that isn't healed yet is another unimportant detail, apparently. On Monday, I'm somehow supposed to get him back down the steps and transferred into a nicer PT place.
Oh yeah, and all this is supposed to magically coordinate with the girl scout trip we are going on tomorrow. Yeah, mmmkay.
Does anyone see a problem with this plan? I've got nothing to work with. Nothing! Even McGuyver got a paperclip, rubber band, and a pen to conduct his rescues!
There is good news though. I managed to borrow a wheelchair from someone I know. Not bad for such short notice, methinks. Maybe I've got a chance to prove the McGuyver in me.
I'll let you know how the escape plan goes tomorrow.