He's doing a little better, thank you, taking his antidepressants, staying off the sauce (we hope) and seeing a psychiatrist every week. We got my mom settled in her new nursing home and are trying to start the process of getting her on Medicaid. We told Dad we'd take care of it, and while he's not terribly thrilled with giving up financial control, he's just going to have to.
I've decided he has a streak of masochism in him or else he's a closet Catholic, because he wanted to confess all to the committee of elders that disfellowshipped/reinstated him last time. We vigorously talked him out of saying ANYTHING about his latest love at the retirement home and strongly recommended he avoid the whole subject of suicide. For once, he took our advice! Last night he met with two of the three elders and told them that he had fallen out of bed and ended up in the hospital, where these brilliant doctors decided he was depressed and put him on antidepressants and sent him to a psychiatrist. Of course, one of the elders had to lecture him on seeing a shrink, telling him that "you know you can't trust anything they say." Barf.
As for the C.O. who sent him over the edge, I found out last night from a friend that he must be having a lot of stress (gee, I hope the lambs are doing it!) because he came down with shingles and had to go on sick leave. Couldn't happen to a nicer fellow.
Cheers!
Nina