Weston sent Sarah and Suzie, a physical therapist and an occupational therapist, to see Dad a few days after the intake assessment.  Sarah put him on the stationary bike and instructed him to ride until he was too tired to ride anymore, and to repeat the burnout every day.  And she had him do what he will not do for me—amble around the house with his heavy-duty metallic blue walker, a stopwatch in her hand—and instructed him to practice every day because she would be timing him at every visit to see if he is improving.  The day after Sarah’s “therapy,” Dad could not walk at all, and the therapy seemed obviously counterproductive to him.  Suzie, who has a dozen hummingbird feeders at her house, looked over Dad’s house for ways we could make his life a bit easier.  Dad’s most painful moments of the day, both physically and mentally, are standing up from his recliner.  His pain is an 8 out 10 on the grimace scale, so severe that he avoids leaving his chair.  She suggested we attach risers to the feet of his recliners so Dad does not have to rise from such a plush depth, but can slide out more easily to a standing position.  What a simple idea, I thought.  (Another Duh.)  So, I brought home from Lowes some quality 2×3 lumber, cut it to size, drilled pilot holes, and attached two 26-inch lengths to the 26-inch two feet, then two more, adding a full three inches of height to the chair.  He was quite excited to try his elevated chair, now much easier to stand up from.  Of course, the increased height puts greater pressure on his hamstrings, so he must keep his feet elevated, which is better anyway for his edema.  Dad came outside and watched me while I measured the lumber, and cut it with a crosscut saw, and drilled the pilot holes, with divots for the screw heads.  Before he made it back into the house, the lumber risers were firmly anchored and his “new” chairs were ready.  Such a simple aid for such a serious problem.  And as we sat at the kitchen table eating our chicken rice almond casserole, two tiny spotted fawns wandered into the yard, stopping to nibble generously on Dad’s potentilla bushes.  Both the mule deer and the potentilla are endemic to the nearby mountains, so go well together also in our yard.  Each pull at the leaves tugged at me somewhat urgently me to shoo the fawns away, but Dad said, “Let them eat the whole bush.  I don’t care.  Don’t shoo them away.  I like to see them, such darling creatures.  I’m glad they are here.  And I’m glad the hummingbirds come to the feeder.”