Just thought I'd post an update on my dad's status as of yesterday, for my family and friends who read this blog.

To get everyone caught up to speed, here are the facts as I've been able to piece them together from various sources. My dad took his eBike to Target the afternoon of Saturday, July 26. After shopping, he messaged his agent at almost exactly 15:00, saying he was leaving Target. He then went South of the store and headed Westbound on St. Anthony, presumably on the sidewalk running alongside the North edge of the road.

Maybe two minutes after leaving Target, at around 15:02, his ankle bracelet GPS records indicate he became motionless at the intersection of St. Anthony and Pascal. At 15:31, somehow a fire / EMS unit became aware of him laying on the pavement, and an ambulance was immediately called. 17 minutes after that, the ambulance showed up, and right at 16:00 he arrived at the hospital.

When he arrived he could only remember his name, and apparently had no identification on him-- only a backpack full of groceries. So it took the hospital a bit to figure out who he was, and to get in contact with his sisters. I was not made aware until Sunday morning, when I was on a Valley Fair 4H trip with my kids, where I received a call from one of my aunts.

I couldn't leave immediately since I was tethered to the coach bus which had taken us there. But first thing yesterday, I drove back down to the Twin Cities, then made my way to the ICU area of the hospital. I sat with him for about three hours, until he fell into a deep sleep, whereafter I left.

I haven't gotten any updates from today, but yesterday: I was expecting a funereal atmosphere, with my dad bruised from head-to-foot, in bed, completely unconscious, and with lots of looks of pity and "we're sorry he's not going to make it" glances from the staff. Instead, the staff was super upbeat and cheerful, while my dad was sitting upright in a chair, and actively greeted me when I sat down near him: "Hi buddy! How are you?"

The area around his left eyebrow had surgery done on it to relieve pressure on his eye-- so his left eye is swollen shut. Additionally, there were large bandages on the left side of his head, plus numerous bruises and cuts on his right arm. Where I was sitting, I could see his pulse-- he was constantly drifting in and out of sleep, and I could see that reflected in his aforementioned pulse, which would drop when he would doze off, then come back up again when he'd rouse himself.

He was struggling to put basic facts together, asking me all sorts of questions: "Did... did I ride my eBike here, to the hospital?", "No dad, the ambulance took you here. But your bike is in the room with us, and isn't damaged." "Oh... oh, that's good. And today must be... Saturday?" "No, it's actually Monday, July 28."

He kept repeating, "This sucks...", and "I can't believe this happened", and "This is wild, sucks to be in a position like this." At one point I asked him, "Dad, do you remember what happened?" He dozed off, then came partially back again: "Being hit... that's so weird." Then a pause, then he continued: "It's so weird being hit... what a crazy experience." I asked him, "Were you struck by a vehicle?" He looked up at me with his one usable eye: "...I might have been. But... then again, maybe it didn't happen." Then he dozed off again for a bit.

I had called the night before for the hospital chaplain to provide the Anointing of the Sick. I heard a knock at the door, and it was the priest! I signaled him in, and he introduced himself, then: "What can I help your father with today?" I asked the priest if we could step outside in the hallway, not wanting my dad to overhear. I explained to the priest that based on my reading, rates of mortality for brain bleeds was rather poor in the first two-to-three days-- he then said, "Yes, the Anointing will be very appropriate."

"Hi Michael", the priest began. My dad's head was slumped down, his chin on his chest-- no response. "I'm here to pray over you and give you the Anointing of the Sick." Still no response. "In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit"-- the priest began the prayers. The instant the oils touched my dad's forehead, something amazing happened:

My dad looked up, totally aware-- shuffled himself in the chair so he was sitting up taller; recognized that it was a priest; got "the look" on his face which I know so, so well from him-- he was thinking "C'mon, you think I'm going to die??" The priest did the sign of the cross again, and began the Lord's Prayer: "Our Father, who art in heaven...", and my dad recited the whole prayer, even doing the sign of the cross, saying "Amen"-- he then thanked the priest for having come, saying that he appreciated it.

For that thirty-odd seconds, my dad was his normal self, and it was the oils on the forehead which triggered it! The priest looked at me with wide eyes: "Wow! If only everyone responded to the Anointing like this! It'd give me a lot of confidence!", he laughingly joked.

After that, my dad became very, very tired and was dozing off until he fell into a deep, deep sleep, as I'd mentioned earlier. At that point I made my leave.

One other point worth mentioning is that the therapist came in at one juncture, and said that they were going to move him into a normal room soon. She gave me handouts with some things we can all try asking him, to help him get his memory back. My dad is a fighter-- he can't stand sitting still, or feeling helpless, and he was palpably combating his own mind, trying to will his brain back into normal functioning.

The therapist showed me how he was at stages five, six, and seven in their model, and-- just as it was with the nurses-- expressed lots of optimism about his progress. Never once was there any mention of him not making it, or any attempts to "prepare me for the worst". In fact, the nurse seemed surprised that I'd contacted the chaplain! "I grew up Catholic, and I thought they just did that at the last moments-- I mean, it's not like he's going to die or something!"

Overall, I'd walked into the situation feeling very gloomy-- but walked out feeling much more optimistic. He's not out of the woods yet by any stretch, but positive signs are there.