For Jules to brighten her recovery....
My dad was firmly in the Dan level of care giving, though his intentions were pure.
My mom loved to garden and craft. So when she broken her hip and femur and had to have a titanium rod in her bone, my dad was tripping over himself to take care of her and get her to rehab and such. She tried to walk again, but even the rehab nurses said it was almost a lost cause, the bone was brittle and the damage was pretty bad, so every time my mom wanted to get up, my dad would carry here everywhere.
So one day, she sat in her wheelchair looking at her slowly degrading garden pining to be back in the dirt. But what she told her friends and sisters was what she really missed was a nice shower in the garden. People she said this to thought she lost her mind already, but they did not know that the garden shed was actually a private shower my dad built for her when she used to get too dirty to come in her house to take a shower. I also think they were a bit freaky as the shed had no roof, so helicopter pilots had a good view. This day my dad after many attempts to put bars and hand holds in the shed for her decided to push the chair to the shed.
That Saturday I missed an important phone call, as I was apparently brokering my mom's final crafts show with a big church who denied my moms entry into their very nice show, because my mother in law is a member and in their ladies group with high standing. My mother in law and mother were almost bosom sisters with their closeness. So their pastor, my mother in law and the lady in charge of the show decided to pop on over to their house to talk to my mom.
Wife decided to go to play defense since my mom's mood was noticeably not good. An hour later I get a call.....
My dad in his infinite wisdom decided to take his tree cutting harness and rig up a way for my my mom to hang in her bathing suit and shower. It was working until she started to clean various parts and was moving too much. So as the system he made started failing, everyone showed up to see my mom doing an aerial back stroke while shouting at my dad using language that would make the devil call her out to watch the language, my dad trying to right her and my wife trying her hardest not to laugh while talking to the assembled group.
I show up, hot and sweaty and help my dad get her into the chair. They talk and she is admitted into the show. But I am glad I do not attend that church, because the gossip mill went into overtime.
Weekend of the show was a complete win for my mom. She managed to sell out of all she had brought both days, but had to dip into her reserve stock and even made some wind chimes while sitting there. But never again would she shower in her garden with my dads help. She bought a shower chair. His heart was right, but his execution was not.