A Horse Is a Horse; Of Course, Of Course..

Have I ever mentioned that my mom makes little-to-no sense when she writes things down? I never realized how bad it was until the only way we spoke was through email. Example:

"Dad had a thing, but it got better. Ha ha, I'm sure you know how it goes. Anyway, I'm pretty sure it's nothing, but if it's not, then at least you know I told you so. Ha ha. Things are good here, except for dad's leg. But I already told you about that, so I guess I should go, miss you. I know, I know, I talk too much! Bye!"

Ok, so that's a paraphrase. Point being, it sounds as though something potentially serious is going on, but it's pretty likely that I'll never know. Thank Pete I'm going home in a few weeks. I can get the story directly from the horse's mouth. (Not that my dad is a horse, mind you. If he was, he'd be like Mr. Ed, in that he MAKES SENSE WHEN HE COMMUNICATES. Unlike my mother.)

I guess what happened was, a few weeks back, he took a tumble when trying to get his van out of a ditch. He fell down a hill, and twisted his knee a little bit. Oh, and he also cut his leg. DEEP ENOUGH TO CUT THE CALF MUSCLE. That was in January. Since then, he's been self prescribing treatment: "Soaking, peroxiding, neo, bandage..." He went in to the doctor this week, because it wasn't getting any better.

I'm surprised he went in already, actually. It's not even gangrenous yet!