I Found Him

After Bob and I figured out where Dad was, I got there as soon as I could. I was about an hour away, but traffic was light because of the holidays. There he was, lying in the ICU intubated and heavily sedated. It grieved me immeasurably that he had been there for days without us knowing about it. I couldn't figure out whether he knew I was there or not. I had called my brother in Davis, and he was flying down from Burbank to Sacramento. I stayed at the hospital for about two hours, then left to pick up my brother. Uncle Bob and I were trading phone calls. He had gotten in touch with Dad's friends at Flabob airport and learned that the plane had been impounded by the Murietta police. But we still didn't really know what had gone wrong with the supposedly short, routine flight. Since Dad can't talk with the breathing tube, we'll have to wait to learn what happened.

Rick's flight was only about 45 minutes late, and I picked him up and went back to the hospital. Again, we couldn't tell if he was awake enough to know we were there. We knew we had a lot of work ahead of us: find the plane, find his car, get to his house and see about his two cats, figure out what needed attending to. Here again Uncle Bob's dedication was invaluable. He was busy collecting information, and we made plans to meet up the following day (Thursday, January 3rd) at Dad's house in Fullerton. With Dad resting, Rick and I returned to my house to get some food and some sleep.