My dad is doing great. This was serious stuff, but somehow the combination of circumstances, the people around him, his care, and probably his own quietly (but deceptively stubborn) nature have given him, and us, a second chance.
My brother Doug and I have spent much of our time going through his meds (18?), researching (Dad, it says you can’t breastfeed with this one), cross-referencing and charting them. We’ve taught my folks how to Skype and have been keeping a eye on what else could make things a little easier. Dad is telling stories and inappropriate jokes. His dimple is back (the sign that a TMI story is on it’s way). He was able to walk around the block yesterday, beat me a Rumbicube (there was math involved, so it didn’t take much skill to beat me), water his beloved flowers (he has a small yard, with about 20 orchid plants, plus roses and a great vegetable garden) and grill shrimp for our salad. The last sort of astounded me.
Last Thursday, right after his angioplasty, Mom had said,”Don’t you worry, Dad will be barbequeing by Tuesday.” I took that as a sign that she was in serious denial.
Last night was Sunday.
He still has a ways to go, but for now…that second chance…I’ll take it.